#sit foot one weighs a fucking ton

[dragonflylady77]

definitely better than being dead

a 'billy didn't die' day fic

Also on Ao3

I wrote this over the past day and a half, rushing to finish it on time, while it's still July 4 somewhere.

@spaceofentropy @fizzigigsimmer @lovebillyhargrove @shieldofiron @darleenjade

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When Billy comes to, everything hurts. 

He keeps his eyes closed, even though the space around him feels dark, and slowly takes a tally of where it hurts: hands, sides, chest, back, feet too... 

He listens to the noises in the room and the regular beeping of a machine close by tells him he’s in a hospital.

Huh.

This is new. 

Neil never lets him go to the hospital, not unless he absolutely has to, like that time before they left Cali—no, not thinking about that.

Billy listens harder. There, breathing that’s not his, rustling of clothes as whoever is sitting by his bed shuffles to get more comfortable.

He tries to remember what happened, how he got there but it’s a blur. He knows something crashed into his car, and he remembers being pulled into that dark building on the side of the dark back road but after that, only pain. It’s fragmented, he’s getting flashes of people’s faces, horrible things that… thing… made him do, oh fuck, Heather, I’m so sorry, then the girl with her hand on his face and her mind in his memories.

It comes back to him, the beach, the wave, seven feet tall, the evil monster he helped build and how… the thought makes him feel sick. 

He pushed back with a roar to protect the girl who brought him back to himself, his arms still hurt from the effort that took. There were fireworks then there was just excruciating pain and darkness and he thought he was done. He wanted to be done.

Yet somehow he’s still here. Breathing and hurting. He realises his hands are clenched into fists and wills his fingers to unfurl. It’s a slow process that takes all his concentration. One of his fingers touches something warm and Billy freezes. Shit. He hadn’t meant to make contact with whoever is by his bedside. 

His eyelashes flutter open and everything is blurry at first. He sees a flash of red then he is being squeezed tight. Too tight.

“I can't breathe.” His voice sounds like gravel from disuse and he is craving some water. The arms around him relent a bit but don’t go away.  Billy can’t remember the last time someone hugged him.

“Oh Billy, I’m so happy you finally woke up.” The voice is trembling but he recognises it.

“Max? What…” Billy is not sure what he wants to ask so he stops. Lets himself enjoy the closeness like the touch starved loser he is and wonders how long he’s been lying in a hospital bed.

He moves his arm to wrap it around Max and she burrows closer, her face against his neck and he feels wetness against his skin. Tears? For him? Surely not.

“Why are you crying?” He has to push the words through dry lips, his tongue feels like it weighs a ton. It just makes her cry harder. Billy is very confused but the thirst for water wins over the thirst for answers. “Wa… need water…”

“Hang on,” a voice he didn’t think he’d hear again says and a cup of water with a straw in it appears in front of him. Billy tries to lift his free hand but it’s too much effort, he’s been lying in a coma for too long and the IV in his arm makes it uncomfortable. He lets out a long defeated sigh and closes his eyes again. Max is still hugging him, and he lets her, even though his chest is starting to hurt again.

“Let me help,” Harrington says. Billy opens his eyes and Harrington is holding the cup and the straw closer so Billy can take a couple of sips. The cool liquid soothes Billy’s throat but too soon, Harrington takes the cup away, telling Billy he needs to start slowly, to let his body adjust to it again.

“I’ll go tell the nurse you’re awake,” Harrington says, putting the cup on the table at the foot of the bed and turning towards the door.

“How long…?” Billy manages to ask as Steve opens the door.

“A hundred and forty-seven days,” Harrington replies without turning around.

The door closes softly behind him and Billy is left alone with a sobbing Max and even more questions than before.

“Max.” He squeezes her arm to get her attention. “Max, sit up. What the fuck is going on?”

Wiping her eyes with her sleeves, the teenage girl sits up on the side of the bed and takes his hand in hers. Her eyes look bluer than usual in the low light of the room and she looks thinner than the last time he saw her.

“Shitbird, why are you here? Why is he?”

“I’m here every day,” she says with a sniffle. “Steve gave me a ride because Mum was too drunk. Today is Thanksgiving so she started earlier than usual.”

“Thanksgiving? What the fuck? Where’s…” He couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t say it, lest it made the man barge in to teach him a lesson again.

“I know you have a million questions, and I promise I’ll answer as many as I can.”

“Okay.” Billy is still very confused but he figures Max’s promise is better than nothing.

The nurse comes in, followed by a bunch of doctors and Max hops off his bed and goes to stand with Harrington by the window.

Billy loses track of them as he is whisked out of the room for a plethora of tests. 

When they wheel him back to his room a couple of hours later, he’s even more exhausted than when he woke up from his five-month-long coma. 

He smiles at the nurse giving him his pain relief, nodding when she mentions a tray with his dinner. Soft diet, she said. He doesn’t think that will be anything too exciting. He might get ice cream and jelly, though, which would be nice. They gave him some when he went to hospital with a broken arm when he was ten. 

But instead of the nurse, Steve Harrington comes in through the door holding a tray and a bag.

Billy feels a surge of excitement at the sight and, try as he may, the anger and antagonism that coloured his every interaction with Harrington before that fateful night are nowhere to be found. 

Billy is left simmering with his attraction for this boy and the non-stop craving for his touch. He grips the sheets with both hands to stop from reaching out. Harrington wouldn’t want Billy to touch him anyway. Pretty boy deserves better than this. Billy is damaged goods, even worse now than before, and trash like him doesn’t deserve love, Neil taught him that. 

“Are you okay?” Harrington asks when he stops at the end of the bed and sets his precious cargo on the table.

Billy nods, all his focus on not reacting. Can’t let him know. Hold it in until he’s gone, like every other time. Billy finds it’s harder than it used to be.

“If you say so, it’s just…” Harrington looks at the monitor hooked to Billy then back at him. “Your heart rate picked up when I came in, it’s a lot higher than it was earlier.”

“I don’t know, man, I’m not a doctor.” Billy shrugs then nods towards the tray. “Is that my dinner?” 

“Um yes, jelly and ice cream and what looks like chocolate milk. The nurse said you were allowed soft foods so I brought you some mashed potato and gravy, and some pumpkin pie Mrs Henderson made. I checked with the nurse and she said you’d be okay to eat the filling.”

“Why?” Billy asks when Harrington wheels the table closer. Billy starts on his super nutritious dinner with gusto. He hasn’t had ice cream and jelly in years so he’s going to enjoy it.

“Why only the filling?” Harrington looks confused. “If you don’t like it, that’s fine, I’ll just—”

“No, pretty boy, why are you here?”

Fuck. The nickname slips out before Billy notices and now Harrington looks embarrassed, his cheek a little pinker than before. But then he looks straight at Billy, and there’s that fire that Billy was looking for last year. Feels like a million years ago.

“I can leave if it’s easier,” Harrington says and that’s the last thing Billy wants. Max promised him answers but she left before he could get any. He figures Harrington might know a lot.

“No, don’t.” Billy sighs, looking down at his hand clenching on the spoon. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s late, I’m hungry, I’m sore and I missed the last five months of my life. You probably have better things to do on Thanksgiving than entertain the guy who beat you up last year.” Billy glances up to find Harrington’s brown eyes fixed on him. “I’m sorry for that too.”

Harrington laughs. “That was a long time ago, Billy. I got over it, especially once I realised how it must have looked like for the outside. Then…” Harrington looks sombre for a moment. “Then you sacrificed yourself to save the world.”

“Sorry it didn’t stick.” Billy looks away, dejected. Always on the outside. No friends for Billy, no, sir. Trash, loser, reject. Appetite gone, Billy drops the spoon in the tray and gives the table a shove. It rolls away just enough to be out of the way.

“Don’t say that.” Harrington comes over to sit in the chair Max was occupying earlier on the side of the bed.

“It’s true. You’re all better off without me around. Especially my family.” Billy curls up into a ball on the bed, facing the side Harrington is sitting on, because he’s weak.

“Bullshit!” Harrington exclaims, taking Billy’s hand in his and Billy can’t help but stare at their hands as Harrington links their fingers together. “Max has missed you so much, Billy. She’s been here every day once we found out where you were. She sneaked out of the house at first then once your dad left—”

“He left? Neil’s gone?”

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have dropped it on you like that, I’m so sorry. Billy, we thought you were dead, there was a funeral. Then about a month later, your dad, he…” There are tears in Harrington’s eyes and Billy isn’t sure he wants to know anymore. 

Harrington clears his throat, squeezing Billy’s fingers before he continues, “Your dad emptied your room and put everything on the curb. He, um, he was gonna light all of your stuff on fire and she screamed so much and so loud some of the neighbours came to check what was going on. She got him to change his mind as long as she could find someone to take the boxes away. She called me on the walkie-talkie and told me what had happened. We piled all your stuff in my car and put it in a corner of my garage.” 

“Um, yo-your parents okay with that, Harrington?” Billy asked, wiping his eyes on a corner of the sheet with his free hand. If ever he’d needed a reminder of how much his dad hated him…

“Steve,” came the reply, with another squeeze of his fingers before Steve added, “I don’t give a fuck, I haven’t seen them since last Chrismas anyway.”

“Wow.” That explained a few things, Billy thinks. Like why Steve is always surrounded by the Weird Kids Gang. Must get lonely in that big house, no matter how much money you have in the bank.

“Yeah, you don’t have the monopoly on parents who suck,” Steve said with a sad grin.

“Clearly. How did you find out I wasn’t dead?”

“Oh, well the Byers moved to Cali at the end of July and about a week after that, I got a call from El in the middle of the night. That’s the girl you saved from the meat monster. She, um, she said you were alive and she knew where you were.”

“How the fuck would she know that?” Billy was getting really frustrated with the way the answer to any question always brought more questions.

“Okay, um…” Steve takes a deep breath and locks eyes with Billy. “I’m gonna need you to listen while I explain. I swear it’s all true and I’ll answer any questions after, okay?”

Billy nods. He has no fucking clue what’s going on but he’s never seen Steve this serious before, and they had History together senior year.

“That thing that attacked you was a creature from another dimension. The kids call it the Mind Flayer. It’s like, made of smoke, until it finds a host. It attacked Jonathan Byers’ brother last year and we thought we’d managed to get rid of it that night you found me at their house. It comes from this dimension that’s a warped copy of ours, filled with monsters, creatures with flower heads and lots of teeth. We, um, we call it the Upside Down. El was raised by a complete psycho who kidnapped kids and did experiments on them that gave them powers, like, mind powers, I’m not really sure how it works. She can see in the Upside Down and she can find people in this thing she calls the void. She can open portals into the Upside Down as well and fight the monsters. Again, I’m not sure how it works, but she kinda lost her powers after the big showdown at Starcourt Mall and we all thought that was that.”

“But then she rang you in the middle of the night?”

“Uh huh. Then we had to wait for her to make it back to Hawkins. That’s when she told us about a portal at the bottom of Lovers Lake and—”

“Steve,” Billy interrupts because he had to. He is getting a bit sore lying on his side so he rolls over onto his back, leaving his hand in Steve’s.

“What?”

“How come I never knew this fucking town has a thing called Lovers’ Lake?”

“I don’t know, Billy. I’ll take you if you want. Can I finish the story now?”

Billy stares at Steve, waiting for him to realise the enormity of what he said. He knows when Steve does because his cheeks turn pink and his eyelashes flutter.

“Oh. Um. Billy, I—”

“I’m tired. You should leave.” Billy doesn’t want to hear anymore. Harrington doesn’t look like he’s going to punch Billy in the face, maybe because he’s in a hospital bed and Harrington feels sorry for him. Billy isn’t sure what the hand holding is about but he doesn’t need anyone’s pity, he knows that much. Billy starts pulling his hand away but Harrington doesn’t let him.

“Billy…”

“What?”

“I almost lost you when I didn’t know I could have you, you really think I’m going to let go now that I know you want me back?”

“What are you talking about?” He knows he sounds defensive but that kind of talk gets you beaten up. He pulls again and this time Harrington lets go of his hand. Billy glances up at him and he looks tired. 

“I found your notebooks, Billy. The box they were stashed in was all fucked up and they fell out so I moved them into another box and I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have, but I had a look in one of them.” Steve blushes. “More than one of them, really. You’re an amazing drawer, Billy Hargrove. I think you made me look way better than I do though.”

“No, pretty boy, you really are that pretty,” Billy mumbles, unsure how to feel right now, but when Steve reaches out for Billy’s hand again, Billy lets him. 

“Thank you. Like I was saying, we found that portal at the bottom of the lake and me and Jonathan went in.”

“Byers helped?”

“Well, Max wanted to come with me.”

“What the fuck, Ste—”

“I said no, obviously. Hoo boy, she’s scary when she’s angry, and looks a bit like you too.” Steve’s eyes widen at the memory and Billy can’t help the snort that escapes.

“Shut up.”

“So, yeah, Jon came with me, and we found you where El had said, covered in vines. Took us ages to axe them all off and carry you back to the portal. Then we had to swim up real fast, which, let me tell you, is not Jon’s strong suit,” Steve finishes with a chuckle.

Billy can work out the rest, since he ended up in a hospital bed, but a couple of things are still puzzling him. “Steve…” The name feels still new on his lips but he’ll keep saying it if that’s the way Steve looks at him when he does. “My dad…”

“Ah yes, the model parent. He skipped town the day after he tried to burn all your belongings, I’m afraid. The house was in his name so Max and her mum had to move out. They’re renting a small trailer at Forest Hills, across from Eddie Munson.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, Max spends all her time with the rest of the kids when she’s not at school or here with you.”

“But why? I don’t understand. She hates me, you all do, I was a complete asshole… and then…” He doesn't want to think about that again or he’ll cry for sure. He’s always crying. At least now he don’t have to worry about Neil finding out.

“Then you saved all of us. Max… um, she told us about your dad.”

“Great.” Billy feels the tears roll down his cheeks and he does nothing to stop them. Everyone knows about him now. They all hate him or pity him, or both, he’s not sure which is worse. 

He has no family, no house to go back to, no money, no car. He’s stuck in this fucking hospital bed in fucking Hawkins, Indiana until they kick him out. “You should have left me where you found me.” His voice sounds hollow, even to his own ears. 

“Don’t say that. It’s not—”

“It is true. I was better off dead. Where am I gonna go when I get out of here, Harrington, huh? I have no one. Nothing. And my car… Fuck!”

“I told you to call me Steve. And, well, I was hoping you’d come live at my house.”

“Your house? I don’t understand. Steve, why…?”

“Well, for starters, all your stuff is there. Oh, and your car is there, she’s all fixed up and ready for you.”

“You fixed my car?”

“No, because I don’t know anything about cars, but I paid this guy I know to fix her. It was the least I could do, since I was the one who crashed into it.”

“But why would you do that? Steve, why?”

Steve gets off the chair to sit on the edge of the mattress, his hand still holding Billy’s, his fingers moving to link with Billy’s. “Billy, when you faced the monster that day at the mall, I got so scared because I realised I’d never have the chance to tell you how I feel.”

“How you feel about what?” There is no way the fucking tears are going to stop now, not when Steve is sitting on his fucking bed, clasping his hand, his thigh pressing into Billy’s hip. Being so close to the one person he’s ever wanted, Billy can barely breathe.

“Two years ago, Will Byers ended up in the Upside Down.

 “Okay…” What? Billy is confused at the change of subject.

“He was there for a week,” Steve continues, his thumb stroking Billy’s knuckles as he speaks. “His mum and Hop found him and brought him back, and he said he hid in the place where he felt safest.”

“Right.” Where is Steve going with this? Billy doesn’t have a safe place, not in Hawkins anyway, and even if this Upside Down is a copy of their world, there is little chance Billy would have made it to California on foot, with monsters chasing him.

“You want to know where we found you? Where your safe place was?”

Billy nods. This is the longest conversation he’s ever had with Steve and the most confusing.

“You were in my room, Billy. In my bed. Do you know how you ended up there?

“That was real? I thought it was a dream. It was so dark, I was so scared and needed to hide. I found your house and that was the only room that felt safe.”

Steve smiles before leaning closer, his arm resting on the other side of Billy. “I’m glad.”

The closeness and the smile on Steve’s beautiful face make something warm spread inside Billy’s chest. “And why is that, pretty boy?” he hears himself ask, looking into brown eyes he hasn’t seen that up close since they played basketball together.

But instead of replying, Steve presses his lips to Billy’s and Billy stops breathing. He freezes until Steve moves back a fraction.

“Billy? Is that okay?”

“Again…” Billy brings a hand up to tangle in Steve’s hair and pulls him closer. Is this what being happy feels like? He feels the tip of Steve’s tongue on his bottom lip and opens his mouth, welcoming him in, swallowing Steve’s moan when Billy tightens his hand in Steve’s hair.

Steve Harrington is kissing him like Billy always dreamed of and he wants Billy to live at his house? Definitely better than being dead.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #dragonflylady77 #happy billy didn't die day

[janghoefett]

You get a stupid injury during seggz with the Mandalorian. I just think mundane domestic mishaps can be seggzy ok…

18+, no minors, f!reader.

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It feels like he weighs two tons on top of you.

Din was a good sized man on his own, but with his beskar on you could swear he was doubled in weight. Your frazzled legs have nowhere to go as his hips repeatedly bring their weight down into yours, and you can only keep them open as they involuntarily jerk, oscillating between wrapping around him, to splaying out, to using your feet to find some sort of anchor around you in the sleeping compartment. Your head is empty and numb yet filled with such animalistic delight and desire all the same, as the Mandalorian inches you closer and closer…

Your bare foot comes in contact with the steel wall of the cramped space, and you arch your foot to gain purchase with your toes. The ball of your foot presses hard into the wall until Din starts digging into that perfect spot inside of you that makes you snap your legs shut. The Mandalorian is relentless, still working out the frustrations of his last hunt on you, and you find your legs are moving once more on their own accord until your foot catches on the same spot of wall.

You cry his name when your foot slips against the smooth surface, bending unnaturally inwards at your ankle, and with a strangled groan, the Mandalorian had finished. You’re torn between pleasure and a throbbing pain as you allow him to come down from his much-needed high, stroking the unruly curls at the back of his hot neck as he catches his breath.

“Din, I think I fucked up my ankle just now,” you breathe.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, his head snapping up.

“No, I just… I think I twisted it.”

“This one?” he mumbles, placing his hand on your leg and sitting up, glancing down for your confirmation.

Din supports your leg by the calf to bring your ankle closer to his gaze, a tender reminder of his waining vision in recent years. “Easy, sweet girl, I just need to take a look...” he mumbles. Your leg jerks at his touch when he cups your ankle to steady you, gentle as he could have been, but still enough to irritate the injured muscles. “Dank ferrik, you’re swelling fast, the Mandalorian grumbles. “I’m sorry.”

Din always felt so responsible for your care, often times overcorrecting his brute strength and refining his gruff nature - two of the very things that drew you to him - and the sight of the quiet man’s furrowed brow makes your heart ache. “Don’t be sorry. You were fucking me so good, I didn’t know what to do with my legs, that’s all,” you laugh, placing your hand over his. “Sex is the most common cause of injury, you know.”

“Really?”

“No,” you admit with a soft smile. “I don’t know. I think that’s kind of a thing, though, people get hurt during sex in stupid ways all the time. Surprised this is the first time it’s happened to us.”

Din chuckles softly, rubbing your leg in mindless affection. “Suppose we couldn’t fight those odds much longer.”

“No, we couldn’t,” you agree. You usher him back down close to you and Din take your lips in his own, his fingertips cupping your head and massaging gently into your scalp. “I’m okay, really, just get me the bacta when you get up, please,” you whisper.

When your eyes meet through your shared smile, the pain in your ankle had almost been forgotten, and you know that tonight you had each found a reminder of the gentle love you were fortunate enough to take refuge in.

 “I’ll get it for you, sweetheart.”

#din is kinda babygirl in this idk #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din dijarin x reader

[lfalexander-author]

Excerpt - Ch. 12 Unnamed Novel L.F. Alexander [redacted] shuddered as she walked down the dimly lit hallway away from [redacted]'s office, though it wasn't cold. She could hear his shrieks echoing down the corridor. She pursed her lips and strode down the stairs toward her office in the Capitol's basement -- her beloved Dungeon. She pushed the beaded curtains she'd installed in lieu of a door to the side, eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness as she made her way in. [redacted] was still sitting at one of the long desks, the glow of the ten or so screens on the wall illuminating his face. He didn't react to her entrance -- he trusted her. She huffed a laugh to herself. Idiot. As she came up behind him, she regarded the contents of the monitors for a moment. [redacted]'s exact location in the Hinterlands -- a day or two's foot travel from the region's main city -- was her original landing point. She hadn't moved far since, maybe a couple miles. No doubt she was exhausted -- and not alone. She'd used a ton of aether to keep that portal open. [redacted] looked over to a different monitor, displaying energy metrics of all aether devices in the complex over the last 24 hours. The portal had used more aether in five minutes than she could get any aether device to store at one time. She shook her head in raw disbelief. She'd known [redacted] was powerful but -- the amount of power she'd drawn on to keep that portal open was -- difficult to fathom.

[redacted] still wasn't a hundred percent sure how the network functioned -- the intricacies of those aether properties were well beyond her comprehension, as much as she tried to learn. The human texts on [redacted] magic were completely fucking useless. She had to do all her research on her own and she didn't have many willing test subjects. She looked down at [redacted] and let out a small sigh. She laid a leather clad hand on his shoulder, her touch gentle. Before he could turn to face her, she cracked the butt of her pistol against his temple, sending him falling sideways out of his chair, tumbling to the ground. "Sorry, bud. Confidential." [redacted] quickly shuffled through her catalog of potions to find the one she was looking for. A small vial of clear liquid -- the Leyman wouldn't be able to tell it from water. She made her way back to [redacted] and stood over him. She tilted his face up, his head weighing more than she'd thought it would. She squeezed the edges of his jaw, prying his mouth open just enough to dunk the contents of the vial down his throat. She tucked the empty vial in between her breasts to dispose of later. [redacted] took one last look around her Dungeon before she grabbed [redacted] by the collar and vanished, her unconscious apprentice vanishing with her.

#fantasy #wip #writers of tumblr #midjourney #midjourney art #cyberpunk #midjourney ai #excerpt #novel excerpt #work in progress

[fanficbarbie]

❝ brutal ❞

─⋆♡ prelude summary: the president's daughter meets her new security detail.

─⋆♡ main tropes: Michael B. Jordan x Fem!Reader, MBJ x Black! Original Character, Michael B. Jordan x Black FMC, Bodyguard x Princess, Secret Service x First Kid, Doberman bf x Black Cat gf, forced proximity, forbidden love, tolerated enemies to lovers, college romance.

─⋆♡ chapter warnings: angst, 18+ black!writer, language, fighting, physical descriptors (brief), characters affected by symptoms of anxiety or depression.

series masterlist ✰ faceclaims ✰ spotify playlist

The blaring sound of my alarm clock has me jolting up out of bed. It’s only a warning that seconds later, a team of people will be in to debrief and doll me up for the day. I slide out of the silk sheets, putting my fuzzy slippers on. Grabbing the nearest robe, I pull it on effectively covering my chest.

Just as predicted my aide Joana shuffles in with my hair stylist, makeup artist, and stylist. I throw my head back in a groan. Just because my mom chose this job doesn’t mean I should be forced to be done up every day.

“Good morning to you too,” I hear Jo say and I straighten my head to see her beckoning me over to the beauty vanity.

I take a seat, refusing to look myself in the face just yet. That’s a jumpscare I’m not ready for this early in the morning. “I’m sorry, I just need coffee. Where is it?” I ask Jo. She usually comes into my room every morning with a latte and a donut.

The hairstylist removes my bonnet, allowing my blown-out hair to flow down my back. “Your parents want to have breakfast this morning. They said if I gave you the coffee, you’d never come downstairs,” Jo tells me.

I put my head in my hands and the makeup artist smacks the back of my hands with her makeup brush. I remove them and straighten up so she can do her job and get the fuck out of my room. “They would be right. What do they want?” I dig further.

A wince escapes my lips as the hairstyles rakes through my hair, trying to get it to lay down. It’s 4c hair, dude. That’s not happening. “To talk to you about your security detail,” Jo responds, looking at me through the mirror.

My brows furrow in confusion. We just got here, there’s not much to secure. “What about it?” I follow up.

Jo shifts to put her hand on her hip. “They’re giving all you first kids 24/7 security detail. They had to test each one to see which one would be right for you. The final test is today, you know, for the optics, ” she rants, finally taking a deep breath. 

My siblings are a couple of years younger than me so they probably think having someone follow you around 24/7 is cool. I, on the other hand, will be trying to ditch my detail as soon as he’s assigned. It’s not like I’d run anywhere, but there’s got to be hiding spots in this building. 

I close my eyes, allowing the makeup artist to apply shadow to my lids. “Okay, do you know anything about him?” I ask, trying not to move too much.

“Not a sliver. You know how clearance is. Anyways you have a photo with Hayley Randall and a–” Jo starts before I cut her off, particularly confused.

My brows furrow and the makeup artist huffs, fed up with my fidgeting. “Why is the secretary of education trying to take a photo with me?” I ask Jo.

Jo walks over to sit in an armchair next to me. “She wants to use it as a way to get her points up with our party. She found out you want to be a teacher and now she won't stop calling. Then you have an interview with Teen Vogue,” she moves on to the next thing.

Finally, something exciting. “Sweet! That should be fun,” I smile with excitement. The stylist brings in a rack of outfits, leaving them by the foot of the bed. She hasn’t figured out my style yet, so the rack weighs a ton.

The makeup grabs my face, tilting it up towards me. She glares over the daunting bottle she holds in front of my face. “Close your eyes, I need to set your face,” she instructs me.

I follow her directions, quickly shutting my eyes. “Yeah, as long as you remember your media training,” I hear Jo say.

A cool liquid is spritzed onto my face and I accidentally inhale some, sending me into a coughing fit. “Fuck,” I cry holding my chest. “I know,” I heave.

I fucking hate everything about this day already. I’m not trying to sound like a pick-me-bitch, but I’d much rather be out of the spotlight and in a bed, isolated. “See, like that,” Jo scolds my swearing and I quickly apologize under my breath. 

The hairstylist finishes my updo and begins joining the makeup artist in packing the supplies on my vanity. “Then you have a fitting for the state dinner tomorrow,” she says, motioning for the crew to leave. 

I scoot forward, hopping down from the tall stool. “What’s the attire,” I ask Jo.

Jo stands, following me over to the rack. “Black tie. Get that in your head, Libby. It’s always black tie. And you have class today,” she reminds me.

On the outside looking in, Jo is the one keeping me in line. But in reality, she’s been my ride-or-die during the entire campaign. Whenever we’re left alone, she lets loose and it feels like we’re back to being just friends. My eyes roll as Jo sorts through the rack, handing me a pink flowy dress.

I accept it, shedding my robe when the realization hits me. I have to be Ms. Americana publically for 14 hours. “Fuck, after all that I have to go to class? What day is it even?” I groan.

Jo helps me step into the dress, zipping the back up for me. “Thursday,” she says behind me.

My hands go up to rub my forehead when I remember, I have makeup on. “Every day I’m here, I’m losing track of the days,” I express my stress to her.

She ushers me to the mirror where she approves my look. “That’s why I’m here to keep you straight now, come on. Time for breakfast,” she says, pulling me towards the door.

She lets go once we’re through the double doors, navigating our way through the White House to one of the many dining rooms. “Morning,” I greet my parents as I walk through the glass panel doors.

My mom lowers the new channel with the remote before responding, “Good morning.”

I walk over toward my 16-year-old sister, where a man meets me and pulls out my chair for me. “Hey, loser,” I greet her as I sit between her and my dad.

Ellis nudges her head up as a hello. “Sup, hoe,” she returns the greeting as I plan my butt into the chair.

My father peers over his newspaper. “Girls, language,” he scolds us.

I roll my eyes, annoyed by the persistent reminder to watch my mouth. I know there’s a time and a place. It’s not like I’m going to get on national television and do it.  I reach for the coffee pot in the middle of the table and pour a significant amount into my cup. “You’re late,” my mother points out the obvious.

Stirring the cream and sugar in, I decide I need a sip of coffee before having this conversation. Once I’m satisfied with the taste, I turn my full attention towards her. “Mmm. Perks of not being the leader of the free world, am I right Dad?” I ask him, clinking my cup with his.

My mom scratches her stork bite on her forehead with frustration. “I only ask for one breakfast a week. That is not a lot,” she complains.

The doors suddenly burst open followed by my 18-year-old lanky brother. Hudson saunters into the room accompanied by a particularly attractive man. “Morning family,” he greets the room before taking a seat in between Ellis and my mom.

My mom smiles at the presence of her youngest child. “Good morning. Waffles are by Lib,” she points across the large round table.

So when I’m late, it’s a problem. But when Hudson’s late, it’s ‘waffles are by Lib’. Why couldn’t I have been born last? “I know you did not just let Huddy slide,” I highlight my mother’s hypocrisy.

She squints her eyes at me looking chagrined. “He’s not the oldest. You need to lead by example,” she counters.

She stares me down for a few seconds before my brother clears his throat. “Can you pass me the waffles, Libby?” he asks in a sarcastically nice tone.

I pick up the plate, extending my arm towards him. When he accepts it, I hold it for a moment too long so he can’t grab it. “You can shove the waffle up your ass,” I grit through my teeth before finally letting him have it.

My dad puts his paper down on the table. “Liberty,” he reminds me to use my manners over his reading glasses. Conceding, I pick up the tongs, loading some breakfast onto my plate. Silence falls over the table and for the first time, I’m about to truly survey the room. There are two new guards, who I assume are Ellis and Hudson’s. One with deep brown skin like ours and one with light brown skin. Both are tall and attractive in their own right, but they’re here to do a job. 

The more I look at them, the more I get curious about my fate. “So about this bodyguard situation,” I hint for my parents to explain.

My mom shakes her head, no. “That can wait until we’re done eating,” she says, buttering her perfectly triangular piece of toast.

“No, Mom. I want to know what I’m dealing with right now,” I demand and I feel like a teenager. The only reason I’m here is because my mom suggested it would be safer after the campaign. All I want is a normal college experience and at 20 years old, I’m still fighting for it.

My mom purses her lips, leaving me to wait for her answer anxiously. “Fine,” she concedes finally turning towards the guard standing behind my sister. “Agent Idris, call him in,” she tells him.

His eyes flicker between mine and hers before he nods. “Yes, Madam President,” he says, turning around and lifting his arm. He murmurs something into the microphone before turning around like nothing happened.

“Why am I the only one getting optics testing?” I interrogate her. If I’m getting optics testing, those two little shits are getting it too.

“You’re not, Hudson and Ellis did theirs this morning,” she nods to the two new faces standing behind my brother and sister. Agent Idris flashes me a coy smile, while the unidentified one sends a flirty smirk my way. Teases. They know I’m not allowed to fuck them. Awesome!!

My sister snickers, but my brother takes his opportunity to laugh at my pain. “Ahaha,” he laughs.

My eye roll again, marking up my eye roll count for the day. “I’m going to shoot myself,” I mutter under my breath.

“Now, before you run through your whole ‘I’m an adult speech,’ know that I get it. This is ultimately for your safety,” my mother continues.

“He’s an ex-navy seal and he’s young,” my dad boasts proudly as if the man is his son. 

My eyebrows knit together and I take another sip of my coffee. I need more caffeine to continue this conversation. “How young?” I ask my dad.

My mom is handed a binder by an aide that seemingly popped out of nowhere. She opens it, flipping through the file before stopping on a page. “Yours is 26,” she says.

26 and an ex-navy seal? I’ve got to start rethinking my escape plans. “How the fuck do you become a Navy seal that fast? Was he just born a killing machine or what?” I joke, taking a bite of the crispy bacon on my plate.

Ellis starts giggling while Hudson lets his melodic laughter ring free. “Liberty, language,” my mother scolds me and I roll my eyes.

I catch some snickers behind me, and when I turn around I see the two agents are laughing quietly. I look around in confusion. The other agents in the room’s faces are stone cold, how they’re trained to be. “Why are they laughing? I thought they didn’t get to show emotions,” I lean closer to Ellis and ask her.

“Mom and Dad said they could, for the optics,” she lets me know, pushing her glasses back up her nose.

My mother clears her throat and I turn back around, refocusing on her. “We chose him because he’ll fit in with you. It won’t even look or feel like he’s your bodyguard,” she explains.

“Oh, how kind of you to consider me before sticking someone with me 24/7,” I scoff.

“He has off days, and a three-hour break every day,” my mom tries to appeal to me.

I groan, thinking about the amount of time I spend with my siblings. Since we’re all stuck with someone 24/7 it means when we all hang out there won't be three of us, but six. “But that’s it. Where will he sleep?” I ask her.

I study her face as she gnaws on the inside of her lip, seemingly afraid to tell me the news. “In your unit,” she breaks it. 

My eyes widen and my jaw drops.“You’ve got to be kidding me. We’re sharing a fucking living space?” I seethe.

“Liberty!” my mom snips towards me.

Each of the kids gets their mini apartment in the wing. Each apartment comes with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. I assume it would be helpful when we have friends stay the night. Turns out, I’ll never know. “I’m sorry, but you can’t dictate how I express my shock,” I defend myself.

“Madam President, Agent Jordan is here to see you,” I hear my brother's unnamed guard say behind me.

My mom nods, waving her hand. “Send him in,” she says to the agent. “And behave Liberty,” she directs towards me.

I slink down in my seat and cross my arms. Fuck this whole situation. I don’t need a bodyguard. I’m 20 years old and I don’t even do anything. I’m not the one partying every weekend like Hudson. They should be more terrified of his pictures resurfacing. 

“Sit up. He’s hot,” Ellis leans over and whispers. I heed her warning because, well, the other two look like a great appetizer and dessert. Maybe mine’s dinner.

When the man walks in, I notice she’s right. The attractive black man is dressed in an all-black suit. It’s tailored to fit him perfectly, although I’m sure he’s got a bulletproof vest on and a gun under there somewhere.

He’s the American woman’s Adonis, and I suddenly realize why my mother set us all up for the optics. If the Kardashians have hot bodyguards, so should the first family. I don’t think she predicted that he’d set my body on fire the moment he walked through the door.

My eyes survey every muscle in his arms, his fresh haircut, and his plump rosy lips. “Madam President,” The man's voice bellows and I feel a pool of desire in my panties.

My mom smiles at him, trying to welcome him with open arms. “Good morning, Agent Jordan. This is Liberty, your responsibility for the next four years,” she introduces us and he doesn’t even look at me. His eyes stay on The President and he remains expressionless.

I smack my hand down on the table, the fury finally bubbling over. “I have to spend 4 years with a stranger?!” I shout at her.

“Liberty! What did I say?” she counters dourly. 

My dad stands, finished with his breakfast with a smile plastered on my face. “I’m sure he won’t be a stranger for long. Besides, he signed a contract,” my father says, grabbing his cup of coffee.

My mom follows suit, ready to disappear from the family for the day. “We’ll be watching, Libby. Don’t make his life a living hell,” she pleads with me.

So he’s just as stuck in this as I am. “I’ll try,” I grunt. 

She comes around to give each of her children a kiss on the cheek before joining my father, leaving the 6 of us in a room alone. Agent Idris and his coworker relax their positioning, allowing their backs to lean against the wall informally.

Agent Jordan doesn't move a muscle. He just stands there with his hands clasped in front of his suit. Fed up with the lack of attention from him, I stand, dragging my fingers across the table as I walk over to him. I stop once our toes are nearly touching and I can feel his hot breath on me. “Hi,” I flirt, batting my lashes up at me.

He finally looks down at me and tilts his head. His jaw clenches and puts both hands on my shoulders, pushing me back so there’s some distance between us. “I don’t know what you think this is, princess. But I’m here for work, not for play,” he articulates with a sour disposition.

I cross my arms, sticking out my tongue at him before turning around. “You’re no fun,” I grumble, slinking back down into my seat next to Ellis. “Why do I always get the worse pick?” I ask the table.

The scraping of Hudson’s utensils against his plate has me wincing. “Probably cause of last summer,” he sneers before shoveling a forkful of waffles into his mouth.

My face contorts and I throw the closest thing to me at him; a strawberry. “Shut your virgin ass up, dude,” I hiss.

Huddy drops his utensils on the table, raising both hands to flip me the bird. “Fuck you, Libby,” he growls, standing and storming towards the door.

Agent Flynn is hot on his heels and Ellis's eyes study them until they disappear. She shrugs, seemingly unbothered as she finishes the last of her smoothie with a final slurp. “You can borrow mine if you want,” she offers. The thought of her sharing her guard with me makes me snicker, and together we giggle before the doors to the family room open again.

There’s almost always a few seconds before the person appears, and I always hold my breath. When I see it’s Jo, my fears are relaxed. “Libby, time for picture day,” she calls for me.

“Great,” I respond, standing from my seat and smoothing my dress. “See you at the fitting, bookie. Have a good day at school,” I turn and bid my little sister goodbye.

She smiles at me and waves. “Bye, Libby,” she returns.

As soon as we’re in the hallway, Jo nudges me with her elbow. “So, how’s that going,” she asks about the brooding soldier trailing me.

“Don’t touch her,” he growls from behind us, sending shivers up my spine.

The click of our heels continues and I turn my head around to tell him off. “It’s fine, she’s my aide,” I say over my shoulder. After a couple of paces, we turn a hall to the media rooms. “That’s how it’s going,” I mutter towards Jo.

At least 4 years with Agent Jordan. Fuck, I am fucked.

Taglist: @cherrellek feedbackfirst part

#michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan x reader #mbj fanfic #michael b jordan fic #michael b jordan smut #michael b jordan fc #michael b jordan #michael b jordan imagines #michael b. jordan #michael b. jordan x reader #michael b. jordan fic #mbj fluff #mbj x reader #mbj #mbj smut #mbj fic #mbj series #x black oc #x black reader #x black fem reader #black!reader #black fanfic #black reader #black fem reader #fem reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #x female y/n #x fem oc #fem oc

[thisismyjourney-pleasedontjudge]

05/24/2022

Today I restarted my journey with losing weight. Half of me is so excited and so hopeful for the results, but the other half can’t help but to feel super pessimistic. 

On one hand, I’ve been enjoying going on shein and pinterest and looking at all of the cute outfits that I would plan on wearing when I lost a significant amount of weight. I’ve been daydreaming about going out into public and being able to wear clothes that show my legs and my arms.

On the other hand, I know that it doesn’t matter how much weight I lose, it won’t change certain facial features or body features. My feet will always be big, my eyes will always be too small for my face. My nose will always be large and piggish, and what if I don’t have hips? What if I’m shaped like an upside down triangle underneath all of this fat on my hips?

My legs will always be untannable, my freckles will be too much on my skin, my face will always be tomato red when I get even a tiny bit hot, my hair will always be thin and flat, my teeth will still be falling out, and my leg and arm hair will always be dark and the pores also too dark.

I weighed myself for the first time in a year today. I weigh 346 LBS. I’m 5 foot 11 inches. I’m obese. Like, not even just slightly overweight and simply hoping to get skinny. I’m genuinely dangerously overweight, and I can feel it affecting my health.

When people on the internet talk about big bodies and how it doesn’t matter how big you are, bigger is healthier...not all cases are like that. Yes, you can be healthy and heavy. But I continued to tell myself that logic and ignored my diet by using that as an excuse. I can feel the chest pains, the inability to walk for more than ten to twenty minutes at a time without feeling like my legs are going to give in. 

When I sit in chairs, I’m terrified they’ll break. I can’t get out of them very easily either. I cant fit into certain cars, I cant fit on the bus very well without spilling over. I can’t fit into most of my clothes, my period is ten times worse. My hair and face get oiler faster, I get so hot so easily. 

If you love you big body, then that’s amazing. Just please, make sure you have balance in your diet. I didn’t, I drank cases of soda a day and fucking ate such shit food. Now I’m here, no health insurance, severely overweight and feeling the effects, and so, so tired of it.

I’m trying to go about this in a healthy way, so that if I do lose a ton of weight I wont have a ton of loose skin. I don’t think that’s possible. The weight needs to go, and it needs to go now.

I’m so frustrated. I’m jobless and I need a job, food prices are going up, and the cheapest foods have been the shitty ones. I have terrible self control, and I did not sleep a second last night.

So, so tired.

Today, I have drank half of a ginger ale, I ate a wawa breakfast sandwhich, and that’s all. I’ll be making dinner tonight, so I’ll need to stop myself from eating it all in one sitting. 

Okay, rant over. No one will probably see this anyways -

Oh yeah, for myself:

CURRENT WEIGHT: 346 LBS

ULTIMATE GOAL: 150 LBS

FIRST GOAL: 320 lbs

SECOND GOAL: 300 LBS

THIRD GOAL: 280 LBS

[haytani]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ (ix.) by my side, always

previous | next

“i think you know why i’m here.”

your boyfriend stands right ahead. the park you are both in close to empty.

you wrap your arms around yourself, hands passing through your body. his eyes, dark, loom over you —examining.

“well, get on with it.” he crosses his arms, tapping the ground with his foot one too many times. “don’t waste my time.”

pursing your lips, your eyes set on the swaying grass below. a few flowers begin to decorate, painting beautiful colors onto a green canvas.

the corner of your lip twitches up at the tinge of a soft pink in between many others.

closing your eyes, your fisted hand shakes once. stance strong and unparalleled.

as a twinkle of brightness shines upon the now lighter irises, your fingers begin to fiddle with the hem of the thin jacket you are wearing.

“it’s over.” you take a deep breath. your eyes are directly upon his own, brooding. “we’re through.”

at the passiveness in his look, you see nothing to do but gulp and glance over at the fields full of colors extending in the far distance. until a laugh brings you back.

what starts out as chuckles morphs into full howling, your now ex-boyfriend holding his stomach at your display. a bead of sweat runs down the side of your forehead. a single eye peering through his eyelashes, his grin showcases his canines, baring your way.

“don’t tell me that slimy pink airhead fucked the bravery into you.” he cackles at his own words, head shaking at you.

on the other hand, you furrow your brows, turning away from him. the grip on your clothes is ghostly, cutting the circulation through your hands.

away from the smug smirk and victorious eyes he’s sporting, you scowl. brightness now turning to heat; heat to flames, burning through your pupils.

“i’m not gonna lower myself to your level, i’m not pathetic.”

concluded and done, you begin to walk away from the scene, footsteps upping the pace when your ears catch on the words the man chortles out.

“pathetic enough to run to the first guy that pities you!”

leaving the man behind, you stroll through the snow-free paths, a heavy heart right in your hands —and purplish marks that decorate your neck and collarbone, signed by haruchiyo himself.

your index finger traces over them, touch whispering from above. the unconscious smile not able to grow bigger at the movie repeating in your mind, the events from days ago plaguing your thoughts from the recent ones.

the trembling of your legs stops you, peeking at a vacant bench from the corner of your eye. you slump down, resting your head —which weighs more than tons for you— on your waiting hands.

dark gray clouds coat the sky, covering the blaring sun. minutes pass before the first drop falls on top of your head, followed by many more.

you don’t dare sit, look or stand up. you allow your clothes take a darker color, letting the rain drown you.

perhaps, your hands will stop to shake, your sight clearing up from the blurry mess mashing up in front of you.

that is, until the water stops hitting you. it’s then that you are forced to look up at the short downpour, meeting up with a pink umbrella instead.

the drops racing through your face fall, joining up in the puddles the form. you can see your own reflection in one of them, the pink haired man beside you, caught.

you watch from the water as his eyes widen, gasping when he sees your eyes on him. your lips fight for a smile to appear, sanzu scooting away and disappearing from the frame.

his arm is still up and visible, holding onto the umbrella that shields you from the rain.

“i can’t have you getting sick.” he mumbles, looking away from you with a small smile on his face. “can’t make soup to save my life.”

a silent chuckle comes from your lips, laying back on the bench and turning your head to look at him.

you take the umbrella with your free hand, guiding him with your intertwined hands to sit closer to you. now, both of you are free from the rain’s attack.

“i did it, haru, finally.” you breathe out, hand clutching his own in a harsher hold.

he brings it up to his lips, pressing them on the back, leaving a popping sound when they part. his eyes are closed as he smiles, hands still by his lips.

“i’m proud of you.” you hear the honeyed mumbling, bringing heat up to your cheeks.

meanwhile, haruchiyo tries to hide his own ones, matching with his hair.

you take a deep breath, leaving the warmth his hand brings. you raise it, resting the palm on his cosy cheek —cupping his face.

your lips quiver, haruchiyo having to put his hand on top of your own to calm it down. a screen of water coats your eyes, letting a single drop fall.

“yet i can’t stop shaking,” you whisper, taking another big breath, tuning out the beating of your own heart. “but i feel so good, so free.”

haruchiyo blinks, bringing an arm over your shoulders, letting you place your head on his own. you count the puddles, smelling the pleasantry of wet earth.

you let it cloud your senses, invading your body from the inside, as haruchiyo leaves tender kisses on your skin.

his lips leave your head, marking every crevice of your face before hovering over your lips. he pecks them —once, twice, too many times.

“do you remember our first fight?” his breath kisses your lips, eyes piercing through you.

you shut your eyes, giving him a kiss which leaves him chasing after you and your swollen lips.

nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, the mellow fragrance of the concealed cologne he sports calms the rapidness of your chest.

you are floating, the tapping of the raindrops falling upon the umbrella mute in your ears.

“you mean when you almost killed me?” you giggle, sanzu rolling his eyes and huffing.

“i was gonna say something romantic,” his whinings bring up your laughter, drowning out the pouring weather. “but never mind, now i don’t wanna say it anymore.”

although, he can’t pout much longer, carried on by your own happiness having him catch his own. his chuckling soon joins yours, the smiles unbreakable.

“thank you, haruchiyo.” you sneak in as both of your laughter dies down, making him take his head above your own to stare. “i’m also sorry.”

he frowns, eyes drooping. “for what?”

you bite your lip, his scars suddenly becoming your main interest —not being able to look away.

“for everything that i put you through.” he flinches at your tremulous voice, rubbing your arm with his hand. “for breaking our promise.”

at your words, coming from the strain of your throat, his heart beats right out of his chest. a greenish blue glints as two kids on a field of flowers lay, their smiles bright and dreams set.

finally, your heart sets quiet, the pumping now gone from your chest just to start again at haru’s hand wrapping around your own. he pulls you to him, having to stand up and steady yourself, freeing your hand from the umbrella you are holding.

you glance back at it, the rain covering you again as you try to keep up with haruchiyo ahead of you. his hair sticks to his clothes, dark pink strands on his forehead.

he cackles at your eyes, looking like plates, and your mouth agape.

“it’s never too late!” he yells out, the rain limiting your vision and hearing. nonetheless, his hand around yours comforts you. “and if we have to renew it, then we will!”

“what?” you shout, taking glimpses at the puddle covered dirt —not that it matters, having stepped on a few already. “you said you didn’t want me to get sick!”

all haruchiyo does is face you by his profile, scars stretching. he winks, stepping out of the park with you in tow.

“if you get sick and i get sick, it cancels out!”

“huh?!” you squeal, fighting the grin itching to get on your lips. “that doesn’t even make sense!”

nevertheless he doesn’t answer back, simply laughs as he carries you along, looking back to meet you and beam your way.

you can’t help but to mirror his expression, once the path you are taking becomes familiar.

♡ only 3 chaps left, i’m vry excited :3 thank u to everybody who’s been reading. much much lv !!!

—taglist: @toobsessedsstuff @rinsie @bontensbabygirl @gulfkfl @hana-patata @paulmccartneysleftasscheek

₊˚ପ⊹ april fools masterlist

(⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄) rbs & feedback are sm appreciated !!!

#sanzu x reader #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu imagines #sanzu x you #sanzu #sanzu haruchiyo #haruchiyo sanzu #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo rev x reader #tokyorev x reader #haruchiyo x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x you

[chocominnie]

One Last Time 01  —  Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Word Count : 4.3k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

The winter’s coldness is hardly enough for you to bear. Even though it’s just the beginning, Seoul is known to just go from season to season without a fucking warning. Not only that, but the first snowfall is going to come soon. The weatherman has been talking about it non-stop for the past few days. It’s going to be a brutal one he says but he says that every year so why believe?

Turning off your alarm, you take a few minutes to collect yourself and stretch. Barely any sleep once again but that’s an everyday thing now.. without Jimin. It’s been some rough months not having his body wrapped snugly onto yours. These days you long for his touch, but completely dread at the same time for very good reasons.

Your kitten greets you with small licks on your thigh in which in return you pet her head softly with a smile.

‘‘ At least I still have you babygirl. You keep me company. “ You coo softly while grabbing your phone off the charger. Texts from your best-friend just spamming you with love and apparently she’s coming over. Great. That’s normal.  But one text catches your eye. Jeon Jungkook.

You furrow your eyebrows as your finger slides to open it after typing in your password. In relief, he’s just checking up on you as always. Rolling your eyes, you muster enough strength to actually pull yourself out of bed. The cold tiles hit your feet like icicles. You jump from from foot to foot cursing yourself for not turning on the floor heaters as you walk out the room. Clara, your kitten, follows you out purring nonchalantly with a few meows here and there.

‘’ Alright Clara I hear you. Im getting your food now.’’ You chuckle, grabbing her food from the bottom kitchen cabinet right under the sink and pour her half a cup of cat food and a whole bowl of water.

After snacking on your morning granola bar you prepare yourself for your morning routine. Shower, brush teeth, skin care, get dressed, clean. Your phone dings once more just before stripping yourself of your clothes. You don’t bother to look it’s probably just a social media notification.

Drying your hair with a towel as you get out the steaming hot shower, you head straight for the mirror. Dark circles remain under your eyes from months of barely any sleep. You sigh, and gently rub under them. Jimin is the cause of this. Why would he do this to you. Surely enough he would not like to see you like this at all. The worriedness he would have over you is huge. But he has moved on and you just have to accept it no matter how in-love you still are with him.

As you clean up around the living room, another ding from your phone occurs. A groan escapes your lips as you place the pillows back as they should be. In hopes of it just being your manager giving you some good news, you let out a sigh and plop yourself down on the grey suede couch. Three new messages. Jeon Jungkook, who has text you twice, and Ryan your bestfriend. 

‘‘ Damn it Ryan why must you consistently text me twenty four sev- “

“ Beause I need to know if you’re okay.”

You jump and drop your phone onto the hardwood floor from the voice that comes from around you.

“ Holy fucking shit you scared me! “  You whine, turning around to face your best-friend. She smiles and holds out her arms for a hug. You roll your eyes and open yours waiting for her embrace.

“ Oh i’ve missed you so so so so so so so-”

“ You just seen me yesterday..” Your voice sarcastic and bland as you let go of her. You sit on the couch first followed by Ryan sitting right next to you.

She looks good today, the navy blue coat she has on suits her very well. Although, you cannot figure out why she decided to wear leggings today. It’s going to rain a bit later but you disregard that seeing as though she’s the fashion deisgner and not you.

You. The model and seemingly ex girlfriend of one of the biggest solo idol in the world right now. Thats what they call you in the news, headlines in magazines, and real life as if you don’t have a real name and just was his acessory. Your modeling career had taken off way before dating him. The world, or Seoul to say the most, didn’t acklowledge you to that point yet. 

“ Okay but still. You know we should be roomates. It’ll be easier for me to watch over you. “

Your head turns towards her quickly shaking no, “ I don’t need to be looked over im 20 years old.”

Silence takes place for the next few seconds. You know what she’s going to say next but pray she doesn’t. Those words will just make you even more upset. It’s already enough you have that constant reminder in your head. 

You watch her fiddle with the rings on her index and pinky fingers. “ But you know… you haven’t been the same since you and Jimi-”

“ Don’t fucking say it. I don’t want to hear it.”

She sighs harshly and stands up, “ Im just worried about you Yn”

“ Don’t be. Im fine. “ That lie escaped your tongue way too easily. 

Truthfully you haven’t and won’t be fine. Everyday there is something new about that girl and Jimin on twitter. Gossip pages, twitter fanpages, and online entertainment pages just always talking about them. They did this, they did that today. Oh we caught them going to this and that restaurant. That used to be you and him.. but now everyone has forgotten about you and focused on them.

Ever since you’ve told reporters and paparazzi repeatedly that you will not be holding or going to any interview they just stopped. A few calls here and there to your manager about scheduling one but she knew you didn’t want to do them so every request is denied. Although its been a year and some change, they still seem to want your side and your opinion to weigh in on. I guess that’s what happens when you date an Idol.

“ The door.. Y/N the door somebody is at the door.” Ryan says, tapping you over and over. You shake your head interrupting your thoughts for the time being. A few more knocks come through.

Finally up onto your feet you harshly walk to the door with each step making noise. It’s to early in the morning for someone to actually be knocking at the door right now. Whoever it is better be dropping off some sort of package, or they’ll surely get a piece of your mind.

Your frail hands grab onto the doorknob and swing it open. Your eyes almost pop through your sockets. How? How did he know you were here? You certainly did not tell him your knew address.

There he stands, his tall frame looking down on you. Lips formed into a tiny pout along with his eyebrows scrunched slightly. His brown eyes forming an ungodly stare into yours with his specs on.

“ Yn! Do you know how worried I was about you? Why did you not answer my messa-”

“Jungkook how do you know where I live?” You pace your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow at him. To your knowledge, you never gave Jungkook your new apartment address.

Jungkook swallows slowly and puts on his best innocent face on. Oh please like that would work in this moment right now. The only person who has this address is Ryan because she’s the one who helped you move. Even if you had the choice of not giving it out to Ryan you would of but you couldn’t do that to her. She would of been so upset.

Ryan’s voice blares in the background full of excitement. Here we fucking go. “Jungkook! Come in Come in.”

“ Ryan says I could come in.” He says quickly, brushing past you and removing his shoes.

You heavily sigh and slam the door shut. What is this a family reunion? On your way back to the couch you notice them laughing and giggling like two five year old children. They don’t even notice you when you sit right across from them.

You study their expressions. Their chemistry is something so strong. The way their eyes light up when they meet, the way that Jungkook smiles and scrunches his nose more often when she’s around. You miss that. You miss doing that.

“ So are you both coming along this afternoon?”

Your attention focuses back on them. Of course you weren’t paying attention once again.

Your eyes slowly meet with theirs, “ Huh? Where are we going?”

“ Kookie finally bought a house! He wants us to come tonight for chicken and beer. You’re coming right?”

A sharp pain goes through your heart. If the both you you guys go then theirs a possibility that Jimin was invited too. After all, that is his brother. If Jimin comes then he’s most likely going to bring Isabel. A recipe for disaster. Your poor heart, that most likely could not bare the sight of them infront of you, would shatter into a million pieces.

Jungkook’s expression is ready to burst into happiness or to turn into a pout awaiting for your answer. If you let him down he’ll surely be mad at you. But putting yourself before him this time would be the right thing to do right?

“ Listen Jungkook I.. don’t think I can go.” You start off, playing with your hair with your head down.

“ I’ll space you two apart.”

Your face automatically lifts itself up in shock. Somehow, that little confirmation of Jimin being there, gave you some hope. Hope for what though?

 “ Wha-what do you mean?”

Jungkook sighs heavily with his hand going up to his brown hair running it through lightly. “ I’ll make sure you two are distanced apart. You don’t want to come because of Jimin but I’ll make sure I’ll invite more people to keep you company and away from him. Okay?”

“ Please Yn. I’ll be there too.” Ryan begs, laying her head on Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook smiles a little, caressing her cheek with his other hand upon waiting your response.

Weird. When did they get so close?

The first thing you want to say is that you really could not go. But they already know the excuse now. You might as well just give in.

‘‘ Fine. What time tonight? “

Skincare and makeup products are scattered everywhere on your vanity. You needed the perfect look for tonight that says ‘Yes im doing fine without you’, but in reality you’re doing worse. This is the night where you’ll actually see him. Damn it’s been a while.

After you apply your highlight you step back and take a look at yourself. Not bad at all. You smile to yourself and start cleaning up the mess of products you had  distributed across the vanity. A new text appears on you phone as soon as you gather everything up and put it back in it’s place. Grabbing your phone, it’s Ryan giving you the address to Jungkook’s new house.

You sigh and mentally prepare yourself, ‘‘ Okay Yn. You can do this. It’s just one night of conversing among people. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone new.”

Before heading out you grab your coat and scarf. Clara follows you all the way to the door letting out her little meows once again. You bend down to pet her head lightly with a smile. “ Clara im coming back. I’ve put food in your bowl babygirl.”

She purrs under your touch then walks away to settle herself in her bed. You take one last final look at your decent sized apartment before heading out.

The subway ride was agonizing pain for you due to it being 30 minutes long. Well, at-least you can ride the subway now. Your mind wouldn’t even of thought of that when you were with him. Everybody would have noticed you and bombard you with questions.

The outskirts of Seoul is peaceful and quite. Not many people live over here. Mostly famous actors and idols. The taxi takes a few minutes to get to the fairly clean subway station. Once you’re inside you take a good look at the driver who seems to be eyeing you in suspicion. You pull out your phone and read the words to the address exactly to him. The taxi man pulls of into the empty streets of god knows where.

All it took was a ten minute ride and then you’re there. The taxi man pulls up to a security guard booth. Just beyond the gates is more street but  by squinting your eyes you can make out just a few newly built houses.

‘‘ Who are you here to see?” The taxi driver says.

“ Jeon Jungkook.?

The driver talks to the man for a few seconds before you see the security guard pick up a phone and start dialing. The security is extremely uptight, thats good. After a few moments of speaking the security guard finally opens the gates to be let through.

As you pull up to the house you’re automatically mesmerized on how big and beautiful it is. There’s fresh bushes and some white roses growing in the front of it complementing the white modern style home. The roundabout is full of luxurious cars, in which might be all the other guests.

‘‘ 10 dollars’‘ He says. You give him the ten, thank him, and grab your purse, closing the door behind you.

Your eyes meet face to face with the expensive house. Behind you is the tire wheels backing up and running off back down the roundabout. The time on your watch reads 8:15. Only fifteen minutes late, not bad right?

With each step you take fear quivers inside of you. What if he opens the door? What if that girl opens it instead? The wind blows harsh-fully hitting your cheeks making them turn slightly colored. You raise a small, shaky fist to knock on the door. Your blood turning cold, and face turning pale already. Your anxiety already taking its place inside of your body.

The door swings open revealing Ryan smiling from ear to ear. She pulls you inside without even a greeting. You kick your shoes off in a hurry as she pulls you more and more inside. Scanning the area around you, its a nice huge place. First the both of you pass the entrance, then the chef sized kitchen, which then leads you to the spacious living room where everybody seems to be sitting.

All eyes are on you now with some familiar faces and some not. They smile and greet you one by one and you slightly bow your head with a fake smile.

‘‘ Ah Yn, nice to see you again huh.’‘ Hoseok, the smiley one says, getting up from his seat to greet you once more.

‘‘ Nice to see you to Hoseok. Is Chae-Yeon here? I’ve baked the cookies she likes.’’  You say, holding up the big tuba-wear of freshly baked cookies. Nobody can resist those.

‘‘ No she had to work sadly, but I will enjoy them for her.’‘ He chuckles, bringing the tuba-wear out of your dainty, cold hands.

A very familiar voice booms from behind you causing you to turn around. “ Yn! You actually did come!’’ Jungkook, the owner of the voice exclaims. He wipes his hands with a napkin just before pulling you into a hug.You pat his back just before letting go.

Ryan smiles and shakes her head, “ I told you she would come.’’

Only one hour and 30 minutes into the festivities and half of the people here are drunk or nearly there. You on the other hand do not drink at all. Staying sober throughout this whole party is a must. Who knows what would happen if you start drinking and saying things.Ryan seems to be doing good with Jungkook who’s laying on the floor laughing and cracking jokes with her head laying on his stomach giggling along with him. The others have casually invited themselves into the guest game-room to play some pool.

You just sit there on the couch, munching on a cookie and smiling and laughing here and there at one of Seokjin and Jungkook’s back-to-back jokes that seem to never leave the air.

Only for a knock on the door to interrupt  their flow of jokes.

‘‘ I got it I got it.” Seokjin stammers, placing a beer bottle down and stumbling towards the door. You freeze, face turning pale once more. It’s them. It could be them. Your teeth find their way to your lips and you begin to chew on it excessively.

Ryan notices it and automatically gets up from Jungkook, ‘‘ Come Yn, lets go see if the game of pool is interesting.’‘

You nod your head slightly as you get up from the couch. What are you worrying for? You look extravagant tonight. No need to worry yourself.

Just before taking your first few steps you stop, that voice. That oh so familiar voice begins to inch closer and closer. The famous laugh that he always tries to stifle by putting his hand over his mouth, that you’ve always thought was so fucking cute, fills the air.

You don’t know what got over you, but you sit back down dragging Ryan down with you. “ Yn? What are you doing I thought you wanted to avoid him.’’

‘’ No it’s okay. Im going to be fine.’‘ You say, awaiting upon his arrival into the room.

The footsteps are haunting you with each step they take.

one..two..three..four..five..si-

‘‘ Everyone, Isabel and Jimin are here.’‘ Seokjin stammers, smiling wide clearly drunk from all the beer consumed.

Your eyes go directly towards his. The pit of your stomach flutters with nervousness as you hold the long stare with him. His facial expression shocked but not showing it at all. His partner, who’s arm is linked with his, smiles brightly at everyone bowing her head slightly to them including you.

‘‘ Sorry we are late. Jimin didn’t want to come out of his home studio but I’ve made him come along with me.’‘ Her voice gentle and soft.

‘‘ Yn I forgot let me show you my new painting i have received.” Jungkook says quickly, trying to escape you from the awkwardness.You can bare it though its not as bad as you thought.

‘‘ Maybe later Kookie. I’m going to grab some juice.”  You say, getting up from your spot. You brush past Jimin lightly with Ryan tailing along with you.

The spacious kitchen was perfect for you to escape for just a moment. Silence is golden. Ryan sighs, pouring you and her a glass of juice. Nothing is to be said yet. But you know she really wants to have her input.

Raising the glass to your lips, you take a sip letting the tanginess run across your tongue and down your throat. ‘’ Say it Ryan.’’

She puts her cup down and looks at you with your eyebrows furrowed, ‘’ You aren’t fine. Please just avoid them for the night.’’

You knew it was coming but you have to face the fact that they area couple anyways so why avoid it? Maybe your mind will finally accept it to see it in person.

‘‘ I have to face it one way or another so why not now?’‘

She shakes her head in disapproval, finishing the rest of her juice. “ No you don’t. You’re making yourself suffer and I don’t like it.’’

‘‘ Yn.. did you make these cookies?’‘ A voice says behind you. Ryan’s eyes go wide and then looks at you signaling for you to not turn around. But you do it anyways.

Isabel. How dare she call you by a pet name? You don’t even know her like that and she’s doing this. Anger wants to get the best of you but you remain humble and calm.

‘‘ Yes. Is there a problem though? Are they not good?’‘ You say, putting on your best innocent act.

She smiles as she moves a piece of hair of her perfectly framed face, ‘’ No they are great! I was wondering if i can have the recipe.. for Jimin’s purpose of course.’’

You breathe through your nostrils with your eyes closed. She knows what she’s doing. She likes seeing you suffer huh? ‘’ You can follow any recipe online. I just add almond extract and substitute white sugar for brown.’’

Ryan shakes her head slightly while sticking her cup into the sink. ‘’ I’m going to be back I have to use the restroom.’’

Once she leaves Isabel’s smile drops.’’ Almond? Im- Im allergic!” She says, semi yelling at you. You’re shocked more or so at the sudden outburst that you can’t speak. You had zero knowledge of her being allergic, it’s an accident for sure.

 “You did this on purpose!’’ She says, tears filling her eyes as she goes into a coughing fit.

Shit. You didn’t know if anyone was allergic to nuts here but you had put it in anyways because that was the secret ingredient

‘’ I- I didn’t know im sorry is there anything I can do?’’ You say, guilt taking over you while you rush to her side patting her back. 

‘‘ Get off of me! You did this on purpose! You never liked me anyways. Jimin! Jimin!‘ She scream’s, coughing and wheezing making her face red.

Multiple footsteps rush into the kitchen. You don’t know what to do at this point so you just back away and let whoever take over. All the commotion going on and yelling is starting to give you a slight headache. All of the boys surround her, bombarding with questions and asking each other what to do. 

‘‘ What’s all the yelling about? What happened! “ Jungkook exclaims rushing towards her hunched over body.

‘‘ What’s going on? “ That voice that haunts you everynight finally comes inside the kitchen. When he see’s Isabel he automatically rushes towards her side. It pains you to see him rush to another woman’s body. But that figure is no longer yours so he has every right to do that.

‘‘ She-She put almond in the cookies on purpose! She’s trying to–to-’‘ She manages to wheeze out before another coughing fit.

Jimin’s eyes meet yours full of rage but then taken over by concern. He knows your hurt. Still hurt from the past and from this very situation now. You don’t manage to keep eye contact, so the floor is your eyes’ bestfriend right now.

‘‘ Yn. is this true? Why would you do that?”  He says, eyes never leaving yours and voice soft.

You shake your head quickly, “ I didn’t know she was allergic. I always put almond extract an-’’

“ You knew better than to put any type or form of nut in a dish when bringing it to ones house. You never know if someone has an allergy to it.’‘ Jungkook scolds you, eyes furrowed in shame.

‘‘ Don’t blame her. She didn’t fucking know.” Ryan’s voice enters the room in madness. She comes to your side with her arms crossed. Your own personal savior. Without her, you’d still be feeling guilty and taking the blame.

‘‘ Besides, you knew better than to invite him if you knew he was going to bring the girl he cheated on her with.. right?’‘ She says, cocking her head to the side as her attitude takes over.

The room is silent again. Good girl Ryan. 

Isabel lifts her head in disbelief along with Jimin. “ Listen that’s beside the point. Just don’t do it again.” Jimin says, focusing his attention back on Isabel. He reaches into her purse to grab her Epi-pen.

His scolding is enough to send your eyes into tears. You shouldn’t of agreed to come. This is a disaster. You take the tuba-wear of cookies from the counter on your way out of the kitchen and dispose of them. Your vision is blurry and you don’t know where your going but you just need some air. You make lefts and rights down long and short hallways till you reach a room that has a balcony.

You slip on who-ever’s house slippers and open the sliding door revealing the winter’s cold harsh air. You lean on the railing and close your eyes breathe in and out heavily.

Wiping the tears away, You open our eyes and look straight ahead. The whole city is lit up such a beautiful view for a sad moment. The sad moment is cut short by the sliding door opening and closing. You don’t bother to turn around it’s probably just Ryan checking on you again. When are people going to stop doing that?

“ Yn.”

Thats the last voice you wanted to hear.

‘‘ Are you happy? Happy for scolding me infront of everybody.”  You sniffle, wiping away your leaking nose.

You hear some rustling before something is placed on your shoulders. You look down at the material and shrug it off of you.

‘‘ Give it to your girlfriend.”

‘‘ I can’t let you be cold. Put it back on.’‘ He sighs, picking it back up and coming closer to you. You both stand side by side. Jimin puts his jacket around you once more and before you could re-do your action just before, he speaks.

‘‘ Shrug it off again and I’ll scold you. Do you understand?’‘ He says firmly.

You don’t bother to speak. Silence is golden.

‘‘ Listen.. i know you still aren’t over the fact that we are through but-”

‘‘ Shut up. I don’t want to hear it. Please go tend to your dying girlfriend.’‘ You say, sarcastically.

He huffs, “ She’s resting right now. She wouldn’t have to be if you wouldn’t of put-’’

You turn towards him slowly and meet his eyes daring for him to finish the rest of his sentence. ‘’ Don’t you fucking dare Park Jimin.’’

‘‘ Honorifics.’‘ He says, slightly looking down at you due to the height difference.

‘‘ You’re right Jimin-ssi.’‘

Jimin’s expression is taken a-back. You knew that one honorific word would hurt him.

‘‘ If we are done speaking I will take my leave now.” You say, eyes never leaving his as you take off his jacket and toss it to him, leaving him outside in the cold

This night was one of your worst mistakes. You thought you could handle it, but couldn’t. So maybe Ryan and Jungkook were right. Maybe you can’t handle it at all..

#jimin #park jimin #idol jimin #idol!jimin #idol ! jimin #jimin scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin one shot #jimin imagine #bts imagine #bts imagines #jimin imagines #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jimin angst #jimin sad #sad jimin #bts reaction #jimin reaction #bts scenarios #bts scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook

[ragingbookdragon]

Batsis & Green Lantern, Sittin' In A Tree. K-I-S-S-I-N--Wait, Is That Our Sister? PT. 1

Kyle Rayner x Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Aye, looks who's back at it again with a fic like this! IT'S ME! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The creature was coming at him a lot faster than he’d thought it was, and he barely had enough time to form a wall before it slammed into him. Even then, the force of it hitting the green construct sent him back a hundred feet and into the side of an abandoned skyscraper.

Pain wasn’t really felt when in the suit, but man, it still threw him for a loop and he groaned as he picked himself up off the ground, shoving glass and concrete away from his body. He could hear the rest of the Justice League fighting outside and as he started back towards the hole his body had made, the creature came in.

And this time, he didn’t have any to react, and the glowing magenta beast was coming right at him—fast. He lifted his arms and started to will a construction when a low sound came from his hand and with wide eyes, he watched the glowing neon green ring faded dull.

“Shi—”

His suit faded instantaneously and the next thing he knew, he was being shoved into the wall. It cracked under the pressure and his skull felt as though it’d been split when it connected with the concrete. The creature’s giant clawed hands wrapped around his throat, starting to choke the life out of him and he scratched at the magenta skin, to no avail.

“He—lp!” he gasped. “Som—on—e hel—p!”

Black started to edge from the corners of his vision and a haze began to settle over his brain as his lungs stopped receiving air.

I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die like this. Someone, anyone, help!

Something cold splattered across his face, and suddenly the steel grip around his throat went slack. The weight of the creature fell away from him and he dropped to his knees and collapsed onto his back, gasping in lungfuls of air to his deprived organs.

When his head stopped spinning, and he found the strength to move, he rolled onto his side and immediately, he recoiled with a shout of fear. The creature’s big ugly head had been decapitated and was leaking a fluorescent blue blood—that’s probably what splattered on his face and he reached up, wiping a hand across his skin. He pulled his hand away and there was the neon ichor painting his palm.

“You’re weak, Rayner,” a voice commented disapprovingly.

He craned his neck up to see a woman who looked about his age wiping the neon blood from a silver sword before she sheathed it on her back, her white slit eyes finding his.

“You almost died because your ring ran out of power.”

Kyle huffed and unsteadily stretched his legs. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the woman that saved your life.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Thank you,” he said, casting one last look at the creature before looking back at her. “So, who are you again? You obviously know me?” he took a moment to examine her suit. It was black, with silver stripes and in the middle of her chest was a silver symbol, that of a Greek helmet. But what got Kyle was the bat wings that outstretched from the sides of the helm.

“Are you apart of Batman’s troupe?”

She grunted and tapped at the glowing screen on her wrist. “Yeah. Name’s Silver Sentinel.”

“Oh, I know who you are!” he grinned. “You’re Dick and Jason’s sister!”

“Yes, please, tell the world who my younger brothers are.”

Kyle’s face heated and he glanced down at his hands. “Sorry.”

She tapped a button and waited, then a voice came over the comm link.

Talk.

Her eyes found Kyle’s and she replied, “Rescued your Green Lantern about two klicks from your position.” A sneer came over her lip. “Fool let his ring run out of power.”

He stared at his hands as embarrassment crawled across his skin, flushing from his neck up to his cheeks.

Hmm. Can you get him back to New York?

“I could be persuaded.”

Sentinel.

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, whatever. I’ll take him back to NY.” Walking over to the hole in the wall, she saw a beam of light. “Need a hand down there?”

Negative. We’ve got it under control.

“Ten-four. Silver Sentinel out.” The line went dead, and she looked down at Kyle. “Well, are you going to keep sitting there on your ass or are you gonna get up?”

He scrambled to his feet, an apology rolling off his tongue. “Sorry.”

She merely grunted in return and started off towards the exit, him following rather quickly. As they got to the entrance to the floor, she walked over to the elevator and pried it open, and Kyle had to fight to not be impressed by her sheer strength. She placed some type of device between the open doors and clicked a button, and it spread, keeping them apart.

Next, she pulled out what looked like one of the grapple guns Kyle had seen her family carrying around, and pointed it at the ceiling of the elevator, pulling the trigger. It hit the top with a clink, and she gave it an experimental tug before looking over at him.

“Come here,” she commanded, and Kyle blinked as something tight shot through his gut at the tone she carried—one of force and complete authority. Something told him that she was the type of woman who did what she wanted and expected people to fall in line behind her or else. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve been aroused or terrified, but it was probably a mix of both as he walked over.

She curled an arm around his waist and tugged his body up against hers. “Put one of your arms around my shoulder, the other around my body.”

“I—uh—I don’t feel comfor—” Kyle stuttered as his cheeks turned scarlet and she glared at him.

“We’re not going to dry hump in the elevator like horny teenagers, Rayner.” She pulled them nose to nose and he tried not to wince as the black nose of the cowl pushed into his skin. “If you’d rather us grapple down the side of the building where everyone can see, then let’s go.”

He swallowed thickly and did as she’d said a moment earlier, putting one of his arms around her shoulder, the other wrapping snug around her back. “N-no. We can do this,” he agreed, and she grunted.

“Listen carefully, this is going to be scary because you’re not used to it, but the second our feet come off this floor, don’t panic. I’ve got you and I’m not going to drop you.”

Though her voice was harsh, he could feel the security. “And the claw holding us up?”

“Has a gripping force of two tons.” She looked at him and inched towards the opening. “We’ll be fine.”

Kyle stepped over and looked down into the cold and dark shaft, immediately feeling his heart-rate pick up and she sighed when she heard the sharp intake of breath.

“You’re such a baby,” she scowled and pulled them into the shaft. His arms tighten instantaneously and even his legs tightened around hers. “Gonna try and climb me, Rayner?” she teased.

“Shut up,” he hissed and buried his face in her shoulder pad. “Just hurry and get us down.”

She snorted and clicked a button, allowing them to descend at a faster pace than he would’ve liked. “I thought Green Lanterns were supposed to be fearless?”

“Usually when I’m somewhere I could fall to my death, I’m powered up.” He retorted, still burrowed in her shoulder. “This is a little different.”

“Relax, Rayner. I’ve got you.”

Kyle pulled his face away from her armor and stared at her, though all he could make out was the white slits. “How are you this strong? I know I weigh at least one-eighty.”

She grunted. “Yeah, I can tell.”

He blinked. “Are you calling me fat? That sounds like you’re calling me fat.”

“Your muscle mass could be better.”

“That wasn’t a no,” he griped and when she chuckled, it sent shivers down his spine.

“To answer your earlier question—”

“The one where you called me fat?” he interrupted, and she scowled at him.

“The one about how strong I am. I work out daily, Rayner, and I can lift a lot more than my weight.”

“How heavy—” he chuckled nervously when she glared at him. “I’m not gonna finish that question.”

“Good idea, Rayner. Might save you from being dropped.”

“Hardy-har-har. You’re hilarious,” he retorted, and suddenly his feet his something hard. He looked down and saw the elevator, and she shoved him back from her, clicking the button on the grapple gun.

It recoiled in a matter of seconds and she tapped a button on the side of her cowl as she stowed the gun, then she moved to the corner of the elevator and brought her foot down as hard as she could. Kyle winced when the hatch gave way and he wondered how powerful she was to kick through a metal latch in one hit.

She looked at him. “Come on. I’ll call the Batplane when we get outside.”

“I thought only Batman was allowed to do that?” he asked, and she scoffed.

“Let’s just say I’m the one who’s allowed to do whatever she wants, and things don’t get fucked up.” She disappeared down the hatch and a moment later, he heard the elevator doors being pried open. “Are you coming, Rayner? I’d be more than happy to leave you here without a ride home.”

Kyle hurried and squeezed down the hatch, grunting when his tennis shoes hit the floor. The elevator rocked and creaked and she made a noise that sounded a lot like the one Batman made when he was annoyed.

“Hurry up and get through the doors.”

He ducked under her arms and out onto the floor and she followed, letting the thick metal doors slam behind her. She strode ahead and tapped at her screen.

“Alfred, are you there?”

A moment later, an older voice came over the line.

Yes Miss Wayne. How can I assist you this evening?

“I need the Batplane at my position. Could you send it?”

At once.

“Thanks Alfie.”

Of course, Miss Wayne.

As they waited in the lobby of the skyscraper, she murmured, “If you’re not going to ask whatever you’re thinking about asking me. Stop thinking. It’s annoying.”

Kyle blinked. “How’d you—”

“Oh please.” she rolled her eyes. “You’ve opened and shut your mouth eight times in the last two minutes.” She gazed at him. “Just ask.”

“You’re really Bruce Wayne’s daughter? (Y/N) Wayne?”

“I am.” (Y/N) replied. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I dunno…it’s just kinda hard to believe that a famous model doubles as a vigilante at night.”

“Why’s that so shocking? My dad’s a multi-billionaire playboy by day and Batman by night. Are you telling me a woman can’t do it too?”

Kyle’s green eyes widened, and he shook his head. “What? No! That’s not what I meant! I just meant that with back-to-back photo shoots, it must be hard to make time to do all this.”

(Y/N) hummed, turning her gaze to the street, a blur of red went by and she knew it was Barry Allen. “I run on my own schedule, Rayner, not anyone else’s.”

“Wow, you really are the woman in charge, aren’t you?” he remarked.

And she turned her eyes onto him again, this time narrowed in amusement as she teased, “Trying to see if you can find out what it’s like to be in charge for the night?”

Kyle’s mouth opened and snapped shut. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, swallowing nervously.

She crossed over to him in one step, getting up in his personal space again as she cooed, “Oh, you don’t?” he nodded and she reached up, trailing her silver armored fingers up the front of his white shirt and he was incapable of fighting how his muscles twitched at the pressure.

“I think you do,” she flirted. “Come on, Rayner. Don’t you wanna see what it’s like when you’re the man in charge? How much fun it can be to take all that control?” (Y/N) leaned close, her face barely an inch from his. “To be the one who holds all that power over a woman?”

He couldn’t breathe. His head was swimming with R-rated thoughts that if she really were a mind reader, she’d probably break his jaw, but all he knew was that his mind was so far into the gutter it wasn’t funny, and he swore she could hear his heart pounding.

She pulled away. “You should break out on your own instead of working for a design company. Then you’d have better control over your own schedule.”

Kyle blinked, stunned silent, then he said, “Wait, what?”

(Y/N) cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“What was,” he gestured wildly. “All that just now?”

Placing a hand on her hip, she asked, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Rayner. All I said was that you should get on your own.”

A deafening sound shook the floor and Kyle stared at the black plane settling down in the middle of the street. (Y/N) walked out the doors and to it as if it just hadn’t pulled a “J-turn” at twelve G’s.

“Let’s go, Rayner. I’ve got better things to do than babysit you,” she called, and he ran after her. She helped him climb into it, then scowled. “Move over. You’re in my spot.”

He shimmied in the tight space to the other seat and strapped in, watching curiously as she tapped at the buttons and flipped switches before grabbing hold of the steering device.

Kyle snorted. “It’s even shaped like a bat.”

(Y/N) huffed. “Yeah, that’s how we do things in our family.” She tapped at the screen. “Batman, this is Silver Sentinel. Come in.”

Read you loud and clear, Sentinel.

“Green Lantern and I are in route to New York.” She paused and directed her gaze to the screen, watching red dots surround a group of blue ones. “You’ve got enemies incoming. Do you want backup?”

Negative. You and Green Lantern get back to New York. We can handle this.

For once that night, Kyle watched as concern crossed (Y/N)’s face and she replied, “Dad, I think—”

I gave you an order, Sentinel.

(Y/N) glared and looked at Kyle and he about shrunk in his seat form the withering stare; she tossed him a helmet and ordered, “Put that on and don’t puke in it.”

“Don’t what?” he inquired as he put it on and the only answer he got was the sudden kick of the engines and he was pulled back in his seat. “Holy shit,” he whispered breathlessly as the Batwing took a U-turn in the air and headed off towards the fight.

Sentinel, we’re fine.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t believe that,” (Y/N) retorted and in a matter of moments they were flying over the rest of the Justice League. She tapped at the screen. “You’ve got incoming hostiles from the north, east, and west.” (Y/N) flipped a few switches above her then pressed a button on the steering wheel. “Heatseekers and nanite missiles deployed.”

Kyle watched her go between the screen and the switches. “Hostiles in the east and west quadrants have been eliminated.”

What can you tell me about the north?

“You’ve got multiple hostiles coming in. Got a big guy too. Got any tips?”

They’re vulnerable to sound waves. Take him out and we’ll do the rest.

“Ten-four. Happy hunting.”

(Y/N) turned the steering wheel and directed the Batplane towards the north part of the fight, grinning when the giant creature came into view, while Kyle looked like he was going to crap himself.

“Merry Christmas, ugly. Kiss my ass,” she quipped and pressed a button, and a black tube the size of a fire hydrant shot to the ground, and with a thunk, sunk in.

“What’s that supposed to do?” Kyle asked and she grinned.

“Watch and learn.”

The device popped up, blue and armed and she hit the screen. Immediately the windows of every building and car in the mile radius shattered and to his amazement, Kyle watched the creatures screech and grab at their heads before they exploded into piles of neon blue goo.

His jaw dropped. “Holy shit. That was cool.”

(Y/N) smirked and checked the map once more. No more hostiles inbound and she hit the comm link again. “Justice League you are all clear. I repeat, Justice League you are all clear.”

Good work, Sentinel. Now do as I told you and take Green Lantern back to New York.

“Is nothing I do good enough for you, father?” she griped, though Kyle could see the humor in her eyes.

Get off the comm link.

“Make me.”

Sentinel. Get. Off.

“Fine, fine. I love you too.” (Y/N) pushed at the screen once more then reclined in her seat, shutting her eyes.

“Don’t you have to fly this thing?” Kyle asked as the engines picked up again.

“Nah. It’s got autopilot.”

“I gotta get me one of these,” he whispered, and she reached over him, pulling out something from a drawer. (Y/N) opened a snack bag and popped a cookie into her mouth.

“You could probably construct one with your ring,” she offered, then held out the bag.

He took one with a ‘thank you’, then said, “Yeah but there’s nothing like owning the real thing.”

“HA! Give my dad a couple million dollars and he might be willing to part with one.”

“And on that note, I’ll stick to constructs,” he chuckled, and the rest of their flight was filled with easy banter, where (Y/N) found herself teasing Kyle a lot more than he was comfortable with—only because he found himself lacking a comeback for every remark she gave him.

***

“You really gotta get a new apartment. This place is way too small for a grown man,” she commented, and he snorted, picking up a pair of shoes that were laying haphazardly on the floor.

“I’m not exactly on the billionaire’s credit card, (Y/N). I live on minimum wage and whatever I can get out of commissions.”

She observed Kyle as he recharged his ring and when he was finished, she asked, “How much do you charge for commissions?”

He blinked and looked up at her. “Oh, well it depends on what the commissioner wants me to do.”

“Give me a price range.”

“Uh…between eighty and two hundred. That’s usually what I charge.”

(Y/N) thought for a moment. “Mind showing me some of your best works? I’ve been thinking about hiring a graphic artist for a new project I’m working on.”

Kyle felt a giddy feeling rise in his chest and he practically tripped over himself to his desk to grab his sketchbook. His cheeks were warm when she giggled and took it from him, flipping through it in silence. And that wracked his nerves because without the cowl on, he could see just how scrutinizing her gaze was.

After a moment she passed it back to him and when she didn’t say anything, merely frowned, he couldn’t help but deflate a bit. “I guess it’s not what you’re looking for, huh?” he tried to sound light, but it came out a lot bitter than he meant.

(Y/N) hummed. “It’s exactly what I’m looking for.”

“I can get you in touch with a better artist at the—” he stopped mid-sentence and gaped at her. “Wait, what was that you said just now?”

She snorted. “I said your work is exactly what I’m looking for.”

He couldn’t fight the shock coursing through him. “Really? It is?”

Suddenly her smile was replaced with a scowl and she bit out, “Quit making me repeat shit and listen the first time.”

Kyle nodded. “Right. I just…wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“I know,” she replied cockily, then took out her phone and tapped at the screen before showing it to him. “I know you’re a graphic designer and not a clothing one, but you’d be really helpful with the new line of clothing and jewelry I’m planning on making.”

He took her phone gently and swiped at the pictures. “Justice League themed?”

(Y/N) tipped her head. “We’re doing an exclusive line for Gotham’s vigilantes first. If it pays well, we’ll go from there.” She took her phone back and stared at him. “I’m willing to pay you up to two grand for every design you give me.”

Kyle’s eyes practically popped out of his head and his jaw went slack. “Are you—are you being serious?”

She nodded and stowed her phone. “On one condition.”

He nodded. “For two grand a design? I’ll do anything for you.”

The corner of her mouth rose in a smirk and he realized his words too late as she purred, “Well I would love to see you on your knees for me. So, I’ll keep that in mind, Rayner.” Waving a hand, she added, “But besides that, if you want the job, you have to come to the manor.”

“Wayne Manor?”

“Mhm. I’ll provide everything you need to create and design.”

His dark brows furrowed. “I can do that, but why?”

A solemn look came across her face. “You almost got yourself killed tonight because you let your ring power down.” She placed her hands on her hips. “If you want this job, you’re going to take combat lessons from me and you’re going to start working out more.”

Kyle’s face pinched. “You want me to work out and get my ass kicked for a job?”

“More like so my brothers don’t lose a best friend.” She shrugged. “But, if a freelance artist like you can find better money elsewhere, I’d be happy to let you go and—”

“I get it!” he scowled and looked away for a moment before sighing and turning back to her, his hand outstretched. “Fine. It’s a deal. You pay me and I’ll do your designs.”

“And?” she questioned with a smirk.

He groaned, his muscles already feeling the pain coming. “And I’ll take lessons from you.”

(Y/N) smiled. “I’m so glad we could come to an arrangement.” She shook his hand. “It’s going to be a pleasure doing business with you, Mister Rayner.”

Kyle swallowed thickly as she pulled away and walked to the fire escape. “Likewise, Miss Wayne,” he replied lowly, knowing that with each sway of her hips, he was getting more and more screwed. Not only was she his better, she was also his best friends’ older sister—hotter and badass older sister.

She opened the window and paused, looking back at him. “This’ll be a three-month project. Are you okay with that, Kyle?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.” (Y/N) seemed to be thinking about something and he could tell. “Is something on your mind?”

She pulled on the cowl and gazed at him. “I’ve half a mind to tell you to pack a bag and spend the time at the manor while we do the project.”

“Pay my rent and I’ll consider it,” he snorted and then she blinked and shifted her gaze down to her wrist then tapped at it.

After a minute, she said, “Alright, your rent and utilities have been paid for the next three months.”

“What?”

“You said pay your rent. So, I did.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Kyle begged—he didn’t want to owe her like that.

She smiled. “Pack a bag Rayner. You’re moving in.”

“Seriously?”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop making me repeat things?”

He sighed heavily, moving to pack. “Yes ma’am.”

“Ooo, call me ma’am like that again and I might not let you leave when this is over.”

#kyle rayner x reader #kyle rayner x reader imagines #kyle rayner x reader imagine #kyle rayner imagines #kyle rayner imagine #green lantern x reader #green lantern x reader imagines #green lantern x reader imagine #batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batfamily #batsis x batfam #batsis x batfamily #batsis x batfamily imagines #batsis x batfamily imagine #batsis imagines #batsis imagine #batsis #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #dc comics #dc imagines #dc imagine

[peakyblindersxx]

can you hold your liquor? - tommy shelby x reader

a/n: yes that's right 2 fics in one night!! this one right here is for my tommy bitches it is very steamy and the reader is a badass bitch ok hope you guys like it :)

prompt: you're a businesswoman and tommy needs a favor.

warnings: nsfw!! smut, choking, daddy kink, slight degredation, you and tommy being assholes to eachother

“Fuck off, Shelby,” was the first thing that left your red-stained lips as Tommy Shelby entered your office, looking like a vision, much to your chagrin, in a dark grey three-piece suit with a white striped shirt underneath. You were well aware of the Shelbys, as one of the only female businesswomen in Birmingham, and on occasion, had had drinks with both Ada Shelby and Polly Gray. You were around the same age as Ada, and you called her every so often to chat. From those conversations, you concluded that Tommy, despite his devastatingly handsome exterior, was nothing but trouble.

Tommy chuckled at your outburst, puffing from his cigarette as he poured himself a glass of whiskey from your bar cart. “I see my sister has told you about me, then.”

You scoffed, taking a large sip from your gin and tonic. “What do you want from me, Tommy. I run a fucking bread factory. Only reason they even let me is ‘cause girls can work here. God forbid they’d let a woman tell a man what to do,” you snapped, crossing one leg over another as you took a drag from your cigarette. You were glad that you wore one of your shortest dresses today; a dark red silk number that played well against black tights and a pair of black 3 inch heels, the tallest you owned. A small, but noticeable pair of silver earrings dangled from your ears.

Tommy’s unmistakable blue eyes locked with yours as he puffed at this cigarette, taking a seat across from you. “I need a favor.”

You almost choked on your laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You gulped down the rest of your drink and stood to get another, hips swaying as you felt Tommy’s eyes on you. As much as you didn’t want anything to do with him, some part of you still wanted him to want you. You made your drink and sat back down, fingers tapping your crystal glass as you took another drag from your cigarette. “What is it?”

Tommy cleared his throat, lowering his voice and leaning in closer. As much as you hated to admit it, his cologne was turning you on. “I have 7 tons of opium I need to get to Glasgow. I happen to know that your bread factory does shipments to Glasgow, eh? Through the canals,” Tommy said, gesturing with his arm.

You took a drink. “Yes, and?”

Tommy groaned. “Fuck, woman! I need you to hide the goddamn opium under your fucking bread,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

You took a long drag off of your cigarette. “And what would I get?”

“20,000 pounds,” Tommy said, leaning back in his chair. “But you’ll need to come with. It’s a two day trip and I don’t trust your employees. Just you, me, and my men driving the barges, eh?”

“Fuck,” you exhaled smoke, weighing your options. Who were you kidding? You had to say yes. With that kind of money, you could buy four more factories. “When do we leave?”

Tommy grinned, knowing that you had a deal. “Tonight.”

“I’ll have something written up and I’ll need your signature,” You retorted.

“That’s fine,” Tommy said, standing and shooting the rest of his whiskey. “I’ll pick you up at 9, yeah?”

“You don’t even have my address, Tommy,” You replied, sipping from your glass.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Tommy grinned, opening the door. “I’ll find you,” he called, shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck me,” You exhaled.

***

You hadn’t been on a boat in ages, not since you were little. Most of your family had died or moved away when you were young, so you didn’t have many people to take you to do things like that. You had been born in poverty, but had worked your ass off to be able to get where you were. You were new to fancy things in that you didn’t find a need for most of them. Of course you indulged in small luxuries, like the newest Chanel pantsuit or silk underwear. You were an owner of an entire company, after all.

You didn’t want to wear a skirt, so you slipped on a pair of black trousers and a plain black blouse over a simple pair of black cotton underwear with a black bra. You put on a pair of lace up leather booties in addition to a tiny pair of gold hoop earrings and a few gold chain necklaces. You heard the doorbell ring, and your maid entered your room shortly, letting you know that a Mr. Shelby was downstairs.

You made your way down your spiral staircase where Tommy was waiting, glancing at his pocket watch before putting it into his pocket and looking up at you. “The driver put your bag in the trunk already,” he said before opening the door for you. He walked you to the car, ushering you through as the driver opened the car door for you while he went to the other side, sliding in next to you on the black leather interior of the Bentley. He smelled like cologne and cigarettes, and it was making your head spin. Something about him was irresistible, but you refused to give in.

The car ride was a short one, the three of you arriving at the canals quickly. The driver retrieved yours and Tommy’s bags from the trunk, driving off after speaking quietly with Tommy. An Irish man on one of the boats tipped his hat to you, grabbing the bags. “That’s Packy Lee,” Tommy said, stepping onto the barge and holding out his hand for you to take while stepping down. “He’s a good man.” You begrudgingly accepted it, stepping down onto the boat.

Tommy led you into the cargo hold, which was dimly lit by a few gas lanterns and contained a single makeshift bed. The small open area was surrounded by sacks and sacks of opium. You couldn’t believe the sheer quantity of it. “Me brothers are in the other ones,” Tommy said, sitting on the bed, gesturing towards the other barges that floated behind you in the canal. “And you’re sure they never check?”

“Not the way that my ships go,” you responded, slumping down a foot away from him. “I’ve never had a problem getting stuff through here, if you understand what I’m saying.” Tommy nodded as he lit a cigarette, puffing from it. He sighed, leaning back against the sacks and producing a bottle of whiskey, popping the cork and taking a swig. He extended his arm, offering the bottle to you, and you accepted, wincing slightly as the dark liquid hit your throat. You took a second swig anyways, your intentions impure. You were in the cargo hold of a boat surrounded by opium with Tommy fucking Shelby, of all people. Tommy abandoned his suit jacket, draping it over the top of the sacks, his sleeve garter chains glinting in the lamp light as he rolled up his sleeves. Getting drunk was a bad idea, but it was too late for that now. You took one last drink for good measure, passing the bottle back to Tommy.

“Can ‘ya hold your liquor?” Tommy’s voice echoed off of the curved wooden walls as you almost choked on your drink.

“Can I hold my liquor. Tommy Shelby, I’ll have you know I’ve been drinking since I was fucking thirteen,” you snarked. “I see why Ada likes you so much. You’re a lot like her,” Tommy chuckled, taking a long drink from the bottle and passing it back to you. You took another swig, starting to feel a little tipsy.

“What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” The question left your lips before you could stop it. Thankfully, Tommy grinned. “God, to be honest? The first fuck I ever had when I got back from France. Purely because it had been so goddamn long,” he laughed, accepting the bottle and taking another drink. His ice blue eyes met yours. “What about you?”

You blushed a little, feeling slightly shy, but the alcohol got the better of you. “Probably this Spanish guy, what the fuck was his name - Raul or something. God, he was good.”

“I bet I could fuck you better,” Tommy grinned, passing you back the bottle. Your jaw dropped slightly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Tommy replied as you took another long drink. “I bet I could fuck you better than what’s his name.”

“Raul.”

“Yeah. Roger.”

You snorted, biting at your bottom lip. “I accept that bet.”

Tommy’s lips were on yours immediately, his hands practically ripping your shirt from your limbs as his teeth nipped at your bottom lip. You rid him of his clothes quickly, flinging them behind you as you ran your hands over his shoulders, kissing him back fiercely. You rolled on top of him, slipping his cock inside your already wet cunt and bouncing up and down causing Tommy to groan.

“You look so fucking pretty riding me, I’m tempted to let you do this all night,” Tommy grunted, his teeth capturing a nipple. “But I promised you something, hm?”

Tommy flipped the two of you over on the bed, ramming his cock inside you at a rough pace as he flung your legs over his shoulder, making your eyes roll back into your head. You couldn’t help but let a moan leave your mouth, causing Tommy to smirk. “You like that, sweetheart?”

“Oh, fuck,” You couldn’t find the energy to form any other words, your head spinning at Tommy’s constant assault on your g spot, sending stars across your vision.

“Look at you, can’t even speak when I’m fucking you this good, can you?” Tommy growled as your pussy squeezed around his dick. “This is what you wanted, from the first thing you said to me, aye? Who knew you’d turn into a pretty little slut for me in bed.”

Your moans grew louder as Tommy fucked you even harder, determined on proving a point. Tommy reached up and wrapped his hand around your neck as you writhed against him, gasping for breath. “You love this, don’t you? I can feel that pretty pussy clenching around my cock.” You could only moan in response, your eyes fluttering back into your head.

“Pretty little thing, fuckin’ made for my cock, aren’t ‘ya? Come on baby, come all over Daddy’s cock, huh?”

“Daddy, fuck,” you moaned, head swimming with lust as you reached your climax.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Tommy crooned, keeping up his insufferable pace as he fucked you through your climax. You couldn't help the sounds coming from your mouth as Tommy thrust harder, groaning.

“God, your pussy’s so wet,” Tommy grunted, hips snapping against yours. “Gonna make me fill you up with my cum, huh?” “Please, Daddy,” was all you could manage. “Please come in me. I want it so fucking badly,” you whined, shocked at the words that were leaving your mouth. Tommy growled, thrusting into you as hard as he could, causing you to cry out, scratching at his shoulders and leaving long red marks. Tommy didn’t seem to care as he took you, letting out a grunt as he finally released inside of you. You felt the stickiness drip down your thighs and you savored the dirtiness of it. Tommy kissed you roughly before slumping down beside you, lighting a cigarette. He took a puff before offering it to you and you accepted, taking a long drag.

“I promise not to tell my sister you call me daddy,” Tommy grinned, letting out a small ‘oof’ when you smacked his chest.

“Fuck you, Shelby,” You laughed, taking another drag from your cigarette as Tommy smiled at you. “We could definitely go again.”

#tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders

[stevenbasic]

“Wh-wh-where am I..??” I blurted, starting to sit up as I woke, on some strange bed in what looked like my office.

“Shh Shh Shh…” came Morgan’s voice, along with her hand on my chest, holding me back, “You are okay, you are the safe. Relax..."

My mind swirled in confusion. Last thing I remember I had been lap-swaddled by Melissa, in her office, and Morgan had come to take me to an exam room. Did I pass out? I hadn’t been feeling well, still, after my vitamin booster injection late yesterday afternoon, administered by Morgan and another of my APRNs, Vida, and today had been reeling from some upsetting news. It was just coming back to me, as Morgan’s strong hand laid me back down, gently but firmly: my car was gone! Taken, repossessed by my wife! And, with all the construction, the only way to get to my apartment was going to be - oh my god! - up a new little spiral staircase in Melissa’s office.

Settling back in this - what is this? Our emergency cot? - bed, apparently newly set up for me in my office, I felt the stirrings of another panic attack coming on. That’s what happened, right? That’s why I passed out? A panic attack?

“There there, good boy, lay down…” urged my new employee, nurse Morgan, her voice low, husky, “I am here.”

“B-b-but…” I began, eyes looking up at her. She was a handsome woman, big. Blonde, Slavic features, sparkling eyes, dimpled cheeks. A broad face, and broader shoulders, she radiated strength and warmth and jesus christ her tits are enormous. Sitting to my right, next to the low, fold-up cot - she had pulled a chair over - her huge Hungarian bosom hovered right near my face. She was wearing a tight, floral dress, slightly off the shoulder. Her strong arms were bare.

“No buts,” she told me, a stern, matronly sense of care solid in her voice, “You rest. I check you.” Her hand remained on my chest, holding me still. I was wrapped in the thin comforter from my bed upstairs, still, and naked underneath.  Apparently I was not going anywhere.

I was so confused, though. “How did we get here?” I asked, taking the moment to glance around the room. Again, we were in my office. She had closed the blinds to the window, and though it was still - I hoped, not knowing how long I’d been out - morning, the light in the room was low. “a-and weren’t we going to an exam room?”

“This more private,” Morgan replied, “away from the prying eyes, yes?” She smiled down at me, patiently, her right hand now slowly rubbing my chest, her left brushing messy hair from my forehead. “You do not want your girls seeing you…like this?”

Very fucking true.

I noticed the blood pressure monitor stand in the room behind her; a stethoscope hung from her corded neck.

“You are fine, one-twenty-two over eighty-four, only slightly high,” she explained, watching my face. I noticed that my arms had been taken out from under my blanket, apparently to get a reading. So she’d checked my blood pressure, what else had she done? Though I didn’t see our wheelchair, I was assuming I’d been wheeled here while I was unconscious. Right?

Her right hand went to the blanket, to peel it away from my naked chest. “H-hey..!” I exclaimed, clutching it up higher, towards my throat.

“Hush, now, quiet,” Morgan scolded, pausing, “I need to do the physical exam.” She moved again to open the blanket; I gripped it only tighter.

”sh-shouldn’t we have someone else in room?” I tried, thinking of…I dunno. “In case someon-“

“This is private time,” Morgan countered, that slight, confident smile on her lips again. She was moving my hands away, now, “Just you and me…”

Alarm bells, like a distant warning, rang. But did I heed them? Nope. “o-o-okay…” I agreed, putting my care in the hands of this big woman.

Dutifully, she peeled down the blanket a bit, exposing more of my rail-thin chest. Tucking hair behind her ears and silently putting the buds of her stethoscope in, she placed the bell of the stethoscope first on her own skin, her throat. “To warm it up,” she offered with a sympathetic smile, after a couple moments. Then she removed it from herself, covered it with a long, humid breath - hahhhhhhhhhh - to warm it some more, and laid it on my chest. I was quiet myself as she began.

“I can hear your heart,” she smiled, looking down on me, biting her lower lip. I watched her face as she listened, the moment suddenly more intimate. Longer than she needed she took, evaluating my beats, the rushing sound of my valves opening and closing, the “lub dub” of the human heart. “No murmur, no defect, no problem,” she finally spoke, moving the drum a few inches across my chest. “Heartbeat just a little fast,” she reported, her smile curling just a bit, “You are the excited?”

Unconsciously, my eyes had flitted briefly down to her enormous left breast, which was hovering just north of my face. This woman was a pediatric nurse by training, working with premature infants in the past. The things would have been smaller than her tit by threefold, I’d found myself thinking.

Excited?

My eyes were back on her face.

“Breathe deep,” she instructed me, before I could answer, listening to my lungs fill as I complied: breath in, breath out. She moved the scope drum a bit. “Again.” I repeated: breath in, breath out.

“Little lungs,” she said, with a little cluck of tsk-tsk, “weak.  Not big lungs, like me.” At that, her huge chest expanded with a big inhale, stretching the top of her dress even more tautly. My eyes goggled. “Deep breath,” she directed, and once again I obeyed, best I could. Good god! She listened, smiling at my discomfit, and moved on.

She went to pull down my blanket a bit more, and saw me tense again. “I need to listen to the intestine, to the gut,” she explained. Still reeling from watching her huge European chest nearly burst through her top, I gave no argument, and, uh…

Her stethoscope was now on my abdomen, bell-to-belly, and her free left hand still caressed my hair, for comfort. Her attentions, the slow movement of the stethoscope drum again lingered longer than necessary, drifting over my sensitive skin, caressing the lower parts of my stomach and-

Oh god, no.

I closed my eyes, clamping them shut in concentration. Don’t get hard.

“Do you want to know what I did at the Evolution?” I heard her say, as her stethoscope came to rest near my navel, the skin of her hand and wrist warm against my pallid flesh. Vida had explained, yesterday, a bit of Morgan’s history, her experience. After time in the NICU, in her home country (Hungary, if I remembered her application..?) she worked with a research team at Evolution Pharmaceuticals, the company that was soon to begin clinical trials of their new supplement here at our practice. We were being given tons of money and resources for it, from the company and various outside sources, and we needed the cash to stay financially afloat. But already I’d felt its looming shadow blanketing us and I secretly regretted ever getting into bed with them. And it was too late to back out now.

Without an answer from me, Morgan continued. “My job was the care for our littlest study subjects, holding their small bodies in my arms,” she began. Her voice sounded wistful. “They get cold so easy, they need the big woman body, keep them warm,” she said, obviously recalling tender times with her patients, “Some of them heads fit in my hand...” The bell of the stethoscope left my belly.

I was confused, a bit, suddenly. This was a supplement for women, right? Adult women? I opened my eyes and looked up at her. “I, uh, didn’t know Evolution was working with pediatrics, had children in their studies..?”

“Who say anything about children?” Morgan replied plainly,

Removing the earpieces of the stethoscope from her ears, folding the tubing with both hands, she placed the stethoscope to the side.

Before I could reply, ask another question, Morgan was speaking again. She'd turned to the side, a bit, swiveled at the waist and digging into an exam bag she’d brought with her. I took the furtive, covert moment to look at her again, appreciate the size and power of her hourglass torso, sheathed in her tight floral dress.

Stop it stop it stop it, I chastised myself, You're getting hard. The blanket covered me, now, merely from the waist down.

“I have weighed you already,” she told me, immediately bringing me more questions. How did she-?? “Now we must measure you.”

“How much did I w-weigh?” I asked, as a cloth measuring tape came from her bag. I could only picture-

“I held you, on scale,” she said, confirming my fears herself as she stretched the tape over me, head to toe, as I lay prone on the cot below her, “then myself, alone.” She took her measurement, and turned back to me, looked me in the eyes. “You are the 5’3”, 112 pounds. Me 198…”

Gulp. I’m still shrinking.

“…six feet tall.”

The image of this blonde, brute beauty holding me in her arms, weighing us, was too much for me to handle. I began to shiver and think of what her smile would have looked like when she realized-

“Eighty-six pounds,” she affirmed, in her strong Slavic accent, returning the measuring tape to her bag, “39 kilogram. I weigh that much more than you.”

My shivers became trembles as it began to set in, and she watched me as it did. I was still losing weight, height, becoming smaller and weaker, and the size difference between she and I was already terrifying. Morgan - a tall, strong woman - had more than eighty pounds on me, and eight inches. I could only think of Melissa, who was taller still. Twice my weight? More than a foot? If not now, soon? Was that possible??

“Yes,” Morgan spoke, as if answering my silent questions, “you are so thin, so small.” As she gazed down at me her hand glided over my chest, down to my belly in a gentle caress. My loins immediately seized and - good christ, no - my cock surged thick. If she saw it, though, through the thin blanket, she said nothing. “You will need the warming too, soon. Like my other babies.”

She smiled down on me and I gazed up at her with what I am sure was a maelstrom of emotions and feelings plain on my face: fear, confusion, uncertainty. She let them play out, inside me, watching me irrationally imagine myself small like a needy infant, needing to cling to her huge body for heat. My muddled panic electrified the air between us as her huge left breast was slowly coming closer to my face.

“You ask earlier, how you get here?” she enjoined, finally, as my eyes struggled to not just stare at her enormous chest, at the outline of the bra I could see through her top, the extra bulge of breast which it struggled to contain, “how you come from Melissa office, to here?” I could feel the warmth of her breast, her gentle body heat already. “Do you know?”

“I…I…”

I had assumed it was a wheelchair, though…now I remember Morgan holding her arms out to me, when Melissa had stood with me in her own embrace from her couch. I thought of our height difference, my weight. I considered Morgan’s strong, strong arms, her back and shoulders and thighs, and I began to shiver anew, picturing-

“Yes. I carried you like the child in my arms,” she declared, “through hallways, past all.” She watched my face, seemed to be drinking in my shame, savoring it. “The women see, they watch. They see their man being carried, like child, by nurse.”

“M-M-Morgan..?” I stammered, not knowing what I was asking, not knowing what I wanted to say. The massive shelf of her bosom hung over me.

“You are…so little, you must get so cold…” she said, her husky voice dropping lower. I felt her hand reach lower, open my blanket. The cooler space of the room washed over me, settling on my naked hips. I cringed in humiliation as I felt my cock spring free, bobbing hugely in the air above my belly.

“Oooo it is the true!” she suddenly sang, her voice brightening in surprise, “Down here you are not so little, you are the big!” She giggled, a strangely girlish laugh from such a big woman. “Here, I don’t mind the big,” she continued, considering me, looking at me, examining it in all its brutish glory. I grimaced in indignity. The thing had become a beast. Always large, it now seemed to dominate my frame when erect, now that I had shriveled and waned behind it. Thin hips, meager thighs, monstrous boner.

“Man is good small,” Morgan explained, abruptly taking hold of my cock, grasping it by its thickly-veined shaft in her large, strong hand. Stars flashed in my eyes, and I swooned. “But big here is good,” she said, “It take all of your blood, make you dim, like the stupid child.” She began to stroke it, slowly, up and down. “Make it easy for the woman to do this…”

“M-Morgan, no…” I protested, my voice sounding weaker than it should. What was she doing? I was married, she worked for me! Anyone could walk in! And then there was Melissa…. But my objection? I heard it myself, sounding less-than-fervent.

“Shhhh it is the okay,” she purred, the warmth of her body, the soft touch of her hand entrancing me, “Let me give you release. You need woman for that.”

I groaned, shuddered, and lay back silent. I tried to look up into her face but at this point could succeed in nothing but staring up at the undersides of her giant rack, two twin bulges which dwarfed me below them.

“I hear Melissa talk to you, hm? About becoming dependent on woman, surrounded by woman?” she asked, as slowly she took to her task, “She tell you, yes? She tell you how many men like that? How many many men now want the big mommy-woman, fleshy and soft, to be cared for, fed by them. Yes, yes they do…”

Her hand, tender but firm, slid up and down my cock at a perfect, gentle pace…but one with an obvious goal in mind. I could do nothing but lay there, paralyzed, helpless below her bulk and - ‘to be cared for, fed by them’ - picture her breasts, now, naked in maternal, monumental grandeur above me. Each would be larger than my head, and the thought stirred my arousal further. I felt my loins, my belly start to tremble.

“But do you know how many men also fantasy of being held by women in other ways, in ways not so gentle,” she continued, “hurt by women, crushed by women?”

Her huge left breast was now scant moments, centimeters away from my trembling face. I whined, quivering below it, faced by it as the hand working my shaft became more insistent. She held her breast there, letting me appreciate its sheer mass, how it dwarfed my head. “Oh my god…” I heard myself croak.

“Suffocation,” she said, finally, as she slowly lowered her boob down, pressing onto my nose, squashing onto my mouth, my eyes. It eclipsed my cheeks, my forehead, my chin. “Suffocated by woman, smothered by woman?” she breathed, her voice betraying her own deep arousal now, “Is that your fantasy too, little man? Do you fantasy about that?”

As if overcome, finally, herself, she began to jerk me off in earnest now, her hand moving faster and faster.

“Come for me, come my little man,” she ordered, as the soft weight of her huge, pillowy left breast lay now fully on my face, completely covering it, squashing me, keeping me from drawing breath. “Feel yourself tiny, under woman’s giant breast,” she said, unrelenting even as she felt my limbs go rigid, my hands grip the thin cushion below me. My climax was almost there, if I didn’t pass out first. “Feel how easy it be for her to do the smother, crush you,” she snarled, “Feel how easy for her it would be to just make…you…dead.”

With a whimpering groan I came, in a soul-draining explosion, into her hand, my face buried in her tit.

========================================

many thanks to the almighty Joshua67 for the sketch. My god the dude's good.

check out my Patreon for more GITJ goodies, including newer posts.

#growing into the job

[celtics534]

At Least for Tonight: Part II

Part 1

As promised, part 2! I hope y’all enjoyed these little hinny moments! Again, thank you anon who sent me the ask! 

Read both parts on: FF.net or AO3

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Ginny breathed in deeply, her eyes drooping closed. 

 “Ginny, dear.” Her mother’s voice was soothing as a hand ran along her back. “Why don’t you head up to Gryffindor tower, try to find a place to sleep for the night?”

 She opened her eyes to look into the ones that matched hers perfectly. The sorrow in Molly’s normally bright eyes was overwhelming, even after just one second. It was like the pain Ginny’s mother was feeling was palpable. Yet, Molly was putting on a brave front, trying to care for her daughter… for her children that had survived.  

 “Mum.” Ginny wanted to stay with her mother, to try to comfort her, but her treasonous body denied her the chance, forcing a jaw-popping yawn out of her. 

 Molly gave her a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Go on now, love.” She pressed a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head before gently guiding Ginny from her shoulder.  Ginny shakily rose from her vigil beside her mother. Her steps were uncertain as she started towards the marble stairs. 

 For all her years at Hogwarts, Ginny had never minded the trek up to the Gryffindor Common Room. Especially when she was dreading the potion essay awaiting her, or when she and Harry had —

 Harry

 Harry

The name was like an invocation in her mind. Harry Potter, who had just stopped the most heinous monster for years. Harry Potter, the man who had practically disappeared off the face of the Earth for nearly a year. Harry James Potter, Ginny’s ex-boyfriend and the man she had missed with every fiber of her being. 

 Ginny’s mind started thinking back to the last time she’d seen him, the last time they’d been alone long enough to have a real moment. That moment had kept Ginny sane through the most arduous year of her life. When she crawled into bed at night, Ginny had replayed the feeling of his fingers teasing her waist, the softness of his lips, the intensity of his eyes as he held her close to him in the dim moonlight of the Burrow kitchen. 

 God, that felt like a lifetime ago, yet at the same time, the phantom feeling made it feel as if it were only yesterday. With a sudden realization, Ginny remembered Harry hadn’t been in the Great Hall when she’d left. A wave of panic coursed through her. What had happened to him? Where had he gone? 

 She forced her overtired mind to think. Where would someone go after fighting for their life? It was hard to keep her mind straight when she was so tired… tired… Bloody hell, Harry would be exhausted after everything he’d been through! Hell, the reports about the Gringotts break-in had been less than forty-two hours ago. And knowing Harry, and that was something Ginny prided herself in, he would go to the place he’d slept for the past six years while at Hogwart. Ginny’s stride quickened as she climbed flight after flight, ignoring the destruction around her. She couldn’t think about what had been her life for the last twenty-four hours. Ginny refused to replay the violent memories that were trying to push to the forethought of her mind. Instead, she kept them at bay with one thought -- or better yet one person. Harry. She needed to see him with her own eyes. Just at least for one minute. 

 She came to a dead halt in front of the Fat Lady portrait, for the first time considering she hadn’t known been at school in months and the password had more than likely changed. “Er —”

 The Fat Lady simply smiled at her before swinging wide.

 “Thanks,” Ginny murmured as she climbed into the common room. Her left foot caught on the edge of the portrait, nearly making her land flat on her face. Ginny cursed as she caught herself. That would be the last thing she needed, a sprained ankle. 

 Letting out a long sigh, Ginny looked around the seemingly untouched tower. Everything looked exactly as it had for the last six years. Tables in the corners, comfy couches strategically in front of the fireplace. If Ginny didn’t know better she’d be able to pretend a war hadn’t just come to completion mere hours beforehand. 

 She looked over towards the girl’s staircase. That’s where her mother would expect her to go, back to the sixth year’s dorm and her old bed. But Ginny’s heart and feet had other plans. She was halfway up to the seventh year’s boy’s room before she even realized she’d begun to move. The door was ajar, making it easy for Ginny to peek inside. No sounds could be heard, nothing seemed disturbed… except one bed by the far window. She could see his mop of messy black hair. 

 There she’d seen him. Ginny could now go back down the stairs and find her own bed... Except, again her feet pulled her towards him. 

 Ginny stood beside his bed, taking in the man before her. He lay on his back, seemingly dead to the world. Hell, if Ginny hadn’t seen his chest rise and fall she might have thought he was truly dead. 

 Harry Potter is dead. 

 The words came back to her with the sharpness of a knife, making her breath hitch. Fuck… hearing those words… The way it had echoed all around her. Never before had words suffocated her, but as she’d stood beside her brothers in the Great Hall and Voldemort’s cruel voice reverted off the stone, Ginny had lost her ability to breath… to think.

 “Gin?” 

 She blinked rapidly, forcing tears she hadn’t known about, to fall down to her cheeks. Her focus fell onto his eyes. The eyes that had come haunted her dreams. His brow was creased as he blinked up at her. 

 Ginny swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “Hey.”

 Hey… that was the first thing she said to him after so long! Ginny wanted to smack her forehead, but Harry simply smiled at her. 

 “Hey.” He started to sit up, but Ginny’s hand shot out to land on his chest stopping him.  

 “Don’t move, you’ve got to be tired.” 

 He blinked at her, his breathing labored. After a second he leaned back onto his pillows, his chest rising high with every breath under her palm. They stared at each other, neither seeming able to break the silence between them. Hell, all Ginny could do was drink him in. Take in every bit of him… there… alive. 

 Harry’s gaze took on a new intensity… something about it Ginny couldn’t place, but it still sent shivers down her spine. 

 “Ginny,” Her name on his lips is what did it. It broke the dam that had been holding back everything in Ginny’s chest. A sob rose into her throat and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Then another and then she was crying as she stood there beside his bed. 

 Before she could even try to regain her composure, Harry had taken her hand and tugged her into him. Her body covered his as he held her close. His fingers caught in the knots matting her hair, but Ginny could feel the pain. No, she was consumed by the truth of all that had happened. The fact that her brother was dead, Voldemort was gone, that Harry was there with her. Her face fell into the crook of his neck, tears dampening his skin.

 “Shh.” His murmur vibrated in his chest, his fingers still brushing the knots out of her hair. “Ginny, shh.” 

 “Holy hell, Harry,” Ginny spoke through her sobs, her words muffled. “Holy fucking hell.”

 “I know, love.” His voice was comforting, though she could feel the tremble in his chest. “I know.”

 She breathed in deeply, trying to control the rapid emotions. Blood, sweat, and dirt all came to her senses. But most of all she smelled him. Harry. His naturally woodsy scent that brought her back to warm sunny days around the lake. How a smell could make her feel so… safe made no sense to her, but with every inhale she was able to breathe a little better.

 Her chest hurt as the sobs slowed and the tears trailed off. She breathed in one more shuddering breath before pulling away from Harry’s neck. Harry was silently crying, tear tracks stained his cheeks. His eyes were focused on the ceiling as he tried to silently handle his grief while comforting her. Ginny’s heart broke for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Her hands came up to cup his cheeks, her thumbs wiping the dampness. 

 His eyes came back down, locking onto her hers. The way his bottom lip quivered made Ginny’s chest tighten. “Oh, Harry.” She pressed her lips to his trembling ones. She could feel his breath hitch as their lips connected. There was so much pain… so much anguish... But in that moment Ginny didn’t feel any of it. She only felt him, the way his lips felt against hers. 

 It wasn’t passion driving them, but a need. A need for each other, for solace, that she could only seem to find in him. 

 They broke apart slowly, her forehead coming to rest on his. Ginny’s body felt as if it weighed a million tons. With the last of her strength, she rolled to her side, bringing Harry with her so they lay side by side facing one another. 

 Her eyes started to close on their own accord, between the comfy mattress and Harry’s warmth Ginny thought she might sleep for a year.

 “Ginny, there is so much —” Her eyes opened to see Harry’s wide green ones. He looked so overwhelmed. “I need to tell you — Everything. I need to tell —” 

 She placed a finger to his lips, cutting him off. “It can wait.” Her lips replaced her finger. “Just sleep, at least for tonight. Just sleep.” 

#hinny #Harry Potter #Harry and Ginny #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fan fiction #harry X ginny #At Least For Tonight Part II

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Raise the Stakes, Part 8

I swear, I will wind this one up in the not-too-distant future but I keep kind of thinking of different things to do with it. Bad writer, bad. Finish your work!

You can find the previous bits of the story:

Place Your Bets

Part one two three four five six seven

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC (referenced Jay White x OFC)

Word count: 3,824

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, cursing

You feel like an idiot for actually believing that he was going to talk to you the next day, or that he was going to do anything other than ignore you the way he has since your arrival. If anything, he’s ignoring you harder than ever, or at least taking greater pains to be anywhere around you. If you see him, he’s always moving and with others. The wall between you is so thick you start gaslighting yourself, wondering if you imagined the tryst in your car.

The whole company is buzzing. It’s the last few days before the big Slammiversary show, the peak of their year. The excitement for the show and for finally having a small audience is mingled with the knowledge that every year, there are some surprises. THe bigwigs play their cards close to their chests, which means that the talent and behind the scenes people, yourself very much included, don’t know who could pop out at any moment. New Japan has been frustratingly tight-lipped. It’s supposed to be your job to bridge the gaps between New Japan and Impact but no one will tell you who might be trying to cross those bridges.

Is Nagata coming back? You’ll find out.

Another appearance by Phantasmo? Wait and see.

Tama and Tanga are mouthing off at the Good Brothers all the time on social media. Are they showing up?

It’s like shouting at a wall.

Finlay and Robinson are there, they tell you. Take care of them.

It’s almost more frustrating to hear that because, of course, you’d like to do that but one of them is very determined not to let that happen.

By Thursday afternoon, you’ve done everything you can.

“Take a day off,” Scott Damore, the man tasked with keeping this little beehive running tells you. “Go home and relax. You’ll want to be rested for Saturday.”

You want to tell him there’s no need for you to leave now but your aching back, neck, and head disagree.

“What time do you need me here Saturday?”

“Morning?” He looks surprised. “Just come in an hour or so before the show.”

“But what do you need me to do?”

“Sit in the audience, cheer at the right points, look excited if the camera passes you.”

“That’s it?”

“There’s nothing that needs to be liaised in the middle of a show. Grab a seat, have some fun. Be a fan for a few hours.”

You laugh a little because you can’t remember the last time you were able to just be a fan.

“You do like wrestling, don’t you?”

“I do,” you chuckle. “I just don’t really have the opportunity to indulge that very often.”

“So go home, have a nice dinner and a glass of wine. Do whatever it takes to get rid of that headache that I can see right through your skull. Spend the day in your pajamas playing videogames with teenagers online.”

You rise slowly, thanking him as you move to go.

“Hey,” he calls softly, “you’re doing a great job. Don’t think they’re not going to hear about it in Tokyo.”

It’s such a sweet note to leave on that you’re most of the way home, or to the temporary rental that’s passing for home right now, before you think about the fact that you haven’t laid eyes on David all day. He’s been around, because if he hadn’t been, you’re the one who would have had to field questions about it. But he’s been invisible to you.

You end up taking Scott’s suggestions very much to heart. You order dinner from the Chinese place you’ve become addicted to, watch early episodes of The Walking Dead, and have a couple of drinks until you can feel a warm blanket of sleepiness wrapping itself around you.

And that’s when your doorbell rings.

You grab your phone, although there’s a large part of you that wants to ignore it because it’s a little unnervingly late to be getting callers. But you pick it up just on that off chance, because there’s that sliver of hope that it’s…

“It’s David.” He sounds tired and grumpy but you don’t even care because he’s there, at your door and it makes your heart race. You buzz him in and then just stand in front of your apartment door like a complete idiot until you hear him knock.

As soon as you open the door, though, your heart sinks.

“Seriously?” he snaps, holding your panties up for anyone to see.

“How long does it take you to go through your damn pockets,” you hiss, trying to hide how close you are to crying.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You want me to get a restraining order?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak. “I know it was stupid, I just thought maybe if I left you a little reminder that… I don’t know. I thought that if I could get you back once…”

“You did not get me back. I’ve been lonely and I had a weak moment. And even then I couldn’t bring myself to fuck you.”

“Fine. I misinterpreted and thought it was me you wanted. Happy to have given you a show and a nice warm surface to rub one out.”

He throws your panties on the floor without another word. Now you have a problem. You know perfectly well that the second you let him out of your sight, he’s going to disappear. But the door to your apartment is going to lock automatically if it closes unless you step back inside and adjust it. So if you want to avoid giving him the chance to run away, you have to find a way to reach your discarded panties without allowing the door to close behind you.

Awkwardly, you bend forward but it’s immediately obvious that the offending garment is still out of reach. You try looking at him but he seems amused by your predicament. So you have to get right down on your knees and stretch, all while keeping your foot on the door, which weighs a ton. You’ve never felt less elegant in your life, nor more ridiculous than when you glare up at him. His expression is scornful and amused, but there’s a hint of something else you can see in his eyes. There you are, the bitch who he believes used him, the one who’s been begging for his attention, now on her knees in the most humiliating position.

You grab the scrap of fabric and scramble into a standing position before starting to speak. Unfortunately, you move enough that your foot slips from the door. You flinch as you hear the heavy thud.

“Fuck!” he yelps, loud enough you think the neighbors will show up.

It takes a second for you to register that he stuck his hand up to stop the door from closing and that the full weight of it crashed onto his fingers.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” It’s like every time he gets near you, something awful happens to him.

You push the door open and take his hand, trying to see if there’s any damage. He’s obviously irritated and tries to pull it back but it occurs to you that this could be serious.

“Come on, you have to at least let me put some ice on that.”

“No.”

“You have to. If it swells up, your hand could be screwed up for Saturday.”

He looks positively disgusted as it dawns on him that you’re right but he lets you lead him gently into your apartment.

You take out your ice tray and wrap a few cubes in the dish towel, pressing it softly against his hand. He swats you away and holds the makeshift ice pack himself. There’s a little grunted sound that might be a thank you.

“What even happened?”

“I thought the door was going to lock if it closed, I just tried to stop it. Don’t know why I did that.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, guilt soaking your voice. “I would have been locked out.”

“Boohoo.”

“I’m really sorry about the panties, I just-”

“You’re just a disaster area and I need to stay the fuck away from you. I should have just thrown your little present in your face at the show.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.”

“I’m going to wait a few minutes until I’m sure my hand is ok. I would really appreciate it if you would just not speak for the rest of the time I’m here.”

The look on his face is so pained, so defeated, that you just nod and look at the floor. But you can’t hold it in. The insanity of the situation you’ve put yourself in and the feeling of having him close enough to touch while also being so remote burns through your insides like a wildfire and you just… break.

You let one loud yelp out and then it’s nothing but tears and loud sobbing. He immediately looks up at you and although your vision is blurred, his expression isn’t unsympathetic but that just makes it worse and you cry harder as you try to speak.

“You’re right, you should stay away from me… I thought that if I came here… I thought that if you knew I left him… that I left him for you…”

Your voice breaks up and you have to wipe your face just to keep yourself focused.

“I didn’t think about how bad I am… for you… for whatever… I just wanted…”

You break down in sobs again and you’re just about to go and hide on the balcony until he leaves when it happens. A miracle. He lays the towel on the counter and walks towards you. Even through your tears, you can see that his expression is much softer and that allows you to hold it together until he lays his hands on your shoulders and pulls you just a little closer.

At that point, once again, you lose it, the memory of how that touch felt back before you’d made a mess of everything. He presses you close to his chest, which amplifies the feeling and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, cupping your face with his hand.

You open your eyes a little and he makes a face.

“You’re a mess.”

“I know,” you blurt. “I don’t know why I do the shit I do, it’s just-”

“No, I mean your face… there’s mascara stuff happening. It looks like an oil spill.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, holding back the tears as he uses his sleeve to wipe your face.

“Your hands are freezing.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have another pair with me. Besides, it helps with swelling, remember?”

You laugh a little again, trembling when he holds your face in his hands. For the first time in ages, he doesn’t have any of that vicious resentment in his eyes. It’s almost like the way he looked at you that day you had breakfast in the cafe, just sadder.

He looks at you that way for what feels like a long time, allowing you to regain control of yourself.

“You have really cute ears.”

“Wh- what?”

He smiles. “Your ears. They’re so cute, you have no idea. You always have your hair pulled back or up and I just remember noticing at one point. I’d smile about it all the time when you weren’t looking.”

“How do ears… be cute?” You can’t imagine what he’s talking about and yet the weirdness of the compliment makes it wonderful.

“Come here.” He takes you by the wrist and leads you into the bathroom. He positions you in front of the mirror, standing behind you and pulling you back against his chest. He takes your jaw in his hand and gently turns your head so that you can see the side of your face and your apparently adorable ear.

“You see,” he explains, running his thumb delicately along the outer ridge, “it’s kind of big and round up here, and then it tapers right off into this perfectly proportional little lobe and it looks like a half a heart. So they look like two halves of a heart. I can’t believe you’ve never noticed this before.”

He laughs softly and presses his face against yours, the scrape of his beard on your skin sending shivers through your whole body. His lips touch your cheek so fleetingly that you almost wonder if you’ve imagined it.

“Crying takes it out of you,” he sighs. “Let’s put you to bed.”

You feel numb as he leads you into the bedroom and helps you onto the bed before turning to close your blinds.

“Do you like being back in the States?” you ask, hoping you can stretch out his visit a little longer.

“Yeah, I do. I mean, it’s weird, all the back and forth lately. I swear I think I’m still jet lagged, or I’m just permanently fucked up.”

You smile as he sits down on the side of the bed. He smiles back but he makes no move to touch you or get closer.

“How do you like Impact?”

“I like not working Japanese hours.”

“Damn, I’ll bet. It’s one thing with the wrestlers but they don’t give you guys a break ever.”

You suddenly realize that you don’t want to talk about your work in Japan at all.

“I heard your brother is getting into wrestling too now?”

“Yup. I’m not sure Dad wanted either of us doing this for a living but I guess it really is in the blood.”

He takes your hands and places them on your stomach, very ladylike and demure, and pats them with his.

“You need to get some sleep. I’ll go fight with the door to get out.”

“Tell me a bedtime story?” You try to make yourself sound as cute and harmless as possible and not like some crazed broad desperate to prolong the moment.

“No.”

You pout a little, gratified when you hear him chuckle.

“Ok, once upon a time there was an extremely silly little princess who could never figure out what she wanted. And no one ever seemed to be able to help her decide what that was, no matter how hard they tried. The end.”

You can’t help but give a wry laugh at that. “At least it’s nice to be a princess.”

“Who said I was talking about you?”

You stare at him a long time, trying to figure out how to untie all the knots of what you’ve done. You can’t even imagine. You’re still trying to figure it out when he bends down and touches his lips, very softly, very quickly, to yours.

He pulls back but then almost immediately repeats the gesture. Then repeats it again. And again. He shifts so that he’s hovering over you, continuing to give you these little kisses.

“Stop that,” he rasps.

“Stop what? You’re the one kissing me.”

“Hm. I guess you’re right.” He leans in again. “Stop me.”

“I don’t want to.”

He doesn’t stop.

“Yeah, I don’t really want you to stop me either.”

And from that point, it gets more insistent, more romantic, and more passionate, until you feel him easing your pants down and running his hands over your thighs and ass. Determined that he is not just going to turn this into another resentful mutual masturbation session, you pull at his shirt. He wriggles free of it immediately easing you out of yours.

“How do you manage to run around without a bra on like that?” He squeezes and licks at your breasts with a little wink.

“I’m in my own apartment. I’m allowed to walk around however I want.”

“Yeah. But you don’t always wear one at work either, do you?”

He crashes his mouth into yours, tongue eagerly breaching your lips.

“Don’t think I don’t notice,” he pants.

He slides down and presses his face between your legs before you can think of a witty comeback, and once he does, you can’t think of anything. It’s so intense, so determined the way he goes at this, the way he picks up on every little twitch and tremor in your body, how he paces himself and you enough that it never feels like a rush to a goal. You don’t deserve this. You have no right to have him be this good to you.

You twist your hand in his hair, pulling it loose from the disheveled bun he’s always sporting. The parts of it that were trapped inside are still damp and you tug firmly to make him look up at you.

“Did you shower before you came over here?”

He smiles coyly and presses two fingers inside you, curling them like he’s beckoning you forward, making you moan and twist even as you’re trying to keep your mind focused.

“I shower pretty frequently,” he grins, “what’s it to you?”

He presses his lips close to your clit, allowing his tongue to flick ever so lightly against it.

“I don’t know,” you breathe, trying not to get overwhelmed by what he’s doing, “I like thinking you got yourself all cleaned up and handsome for me.”

You feel the soft vibrations of his laughter as he dives back into you, tongue pushing up inside you and making you scream before you grab at his hair again.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” you whimper.

“Oh I love doing it.”

“I mean I don’t know why you’re doing this to me, when I’ve been so-”

You’re cut off as he goes right back at it, licking and pushing harder for a few seconds before he whispers, “If you had any idea how often I’ve jerked off fantasizing about eating you out, you’d probably stop speaking to me.”

With that he pins you down and continues in earnest, going at you with a zealot’s vigor so that you can’t question him or do anything but scream and beg him to continue what he’s doing until you fall apart, trembling and gasping.

You feel him wriggle out of his pants before he pulls you onto his lap, kissing you and playfully biting at your lips, his arms wound tight around your waist. You run your hand slowly down the length of his shaft, smiling at the little gasp this elicits.

“I want you inside me.”

“Yeah…” the hesitance in his voice terrifies you. “I was… I was hopeful enough to get all showered and freshened up before I came over but I wasn’t so confident that I actually brought any kind of protection with me.”

“I’m on birth control. And I get checked regularly, I swear, I’m-”

He kisses you hard, so passionately that you almost tumble over.

“You sure?” he whispers when he breaks the kiss.

“Very sure.”

He flips you onto your knees and pulls your hips back towards him. As he enters you, you realize that you’d convinced yourself you weren’t ever going to get this again. It’s like a reprieve from prison, feeling him fill you up.

He leans down enough that the feathery tips of his hair brush against the skin of your back, a stark contrast to the powerful hold he has on your hips. There’s an unbroken stream of praises coming from him but all you can think of to whimper in response is, “Thank you.”

“What?”

He slows his pace just a little.

“Thank you,” you repeat. “I didn’t think you’d want to touch me again. I don’t deserve you being this good to me.”

“Oh sweetheart no.” He pulls you up and holds you against his damp chest, one hand immediately falling to your clit while he continues to thrust inside you. “It’s ok, I’ve got you. I want to feel you come again, I want you to come on my cock.”

You let yourself relax into his touch and it takes very little time until he has you falling apart for him again, your muscles contracting sharply around him as he clearly fights to keep control.

He flips you onto your back like you’re nothing and smiles down at your dazed face.

“Let’s do this right.”

He leans down and pushes himself back inside you slowly crushing your body close to his and planting a fierce kiss on your lips. His movements are agonizingly slow, letting you feel every bit of what’s happening, picking up only when you hitch your hips against his. He keeps you wrapped up tight and close, faces practically touching as he finally lets himself come, eyes locked on yours. It’s a long, tender few minutes while he holds you, touching his lips to your forehead.

“I love you.” You just put it out there before the post-coital haze can fade, hoping it’ll stop him from closing himself off again.

“I love you too,” he whispers, nuzzling against the side of your head. “But you knew that already.”

You dig your nails into his shoulders a little.

“Stay with me. Sleep here, please.”

He looks thoughtful but it doesn’t take long for him to smile, stroking your cheek as he does.

“Yeah,” he beams, “I will.”

He rolls onto his side and pulls you close again.

“Did you seriously think I was going to be able to stay away from you forever?”

“Yes. I was pretty sure that you didn’t entirely want to, but I figured you’d fight it off.”

“How long have we known each other?”

“About six years.”

“You were working at the dojo and we all used to hang out together, right?”

“Yes.”

“How long had we been there before I asked you out to dinner?”

“I don’t know. A few months.”

“Closer to four. And I was already so hung up on you that I could barely think straight when you were around.”

You look at him in surprise. Yes, you’d known that he’d flirted a lot, but at that point all the boys at the dojo were trying to scheme their way into your pants. You’d always assumed that his real interest had developed much later.

“Yeah,” he says, noticing your expression, “I was that into you that early. And you know damn well it only got more intense from there.”

He wraps his arms around you and presses your head against his chest, kissing your hair. “And you thought that having finally gotten to take you to bed, having gotten you to say that you liked me, that I was going to be able to walk away?”

You squeeze him tight and nestle against him, your head immediately finding its way to the hollow of his shoulder. And as soon as it does, your whole body feels warm and safe and content. You want to keep talking to him but you can’t because this sort of bliss doesn't allow you to stay awake.

#david finlay fanfic #david finlay imagine #njpw fanfic #njpw imagine #impact wrestling fanfic #jay white fanfic #jay white imagine #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wayward wrestle writing

[carboniteprincess]

Cat and mouse | Boba Fett/F! Reader | 1.8k words

Warnings: Explicit, minors dni please❤️

Crossposted on Ao3

Tags: Dominant Boba Fett, Semi-Public Sex, Rough Sex, Creampie, Sexual Roleplay, sort of? you want boba to chase you like a bounty

Description: When Boba finally agrees to fulfil your fantasy of hunting you after months of pestering, you find yourself on a backwater planet desperately attempting to avoid his grasp. What will he do when he catches you?

You knew you didn't stand a chance, when you proposed the idea he almost laughed in your face. How outrageous that you would willingly ask him to hunt you when many would ask for anything but. However, the idea of playing cat and mouse was far too delicious to ignore. He agreed, only to please you, always only to please you. 

You got two days' head start, allowed anywhere within the outer rim. Once those 48 hours were over, Boba was going to find you. The very thought of him tracking you, chasing you like one of his bounties sent a shockwave down your legs, pooling at the center. This was so very wrong, and yet, the excitement that bubbled in your stomach said otherwise. All you had to do was hide, that was the only rule. 

When the timer went off, you flinched. You wondered how long you could keep it up, hiding on some backwater planet before he makes chase. Two days apart had left you desperate and pining, part of you almost wanted to give yourself in. But this was what you wanted, and you know he secretly liked the idea. The thrill of the chase was often Boba's favorite part of bounty hunting, and knowing that his prize would be you, made it even better. 

And so here you sat hood up, in a random Cantina. You ate and drank little, not staying in one place for long. You knew better than that, you'll be happy if you avoid him for 12 hours, or perhaps a day. You had just about finished your drink when you heard the familiar sound of the Slave 1. He was here… already? How? That bastard must of been waiting for time to pass, sitting around in the atmosphere. You didn't have time to stop and think, throwing credits onto the table and bolting out the backdoor. 

You ran through the alleyway, seeing no sight or sign of him. This was of no reassurance, you knew he was watching. Waiting for the right time to strike, a perfect predator. The rain pelted against the dirt, this was the worst time he could've found you, as your boots sunk into the mud and left convenient tracks like a trail of treats, leading to his dinner. 

You needed to get off the mud, lose him in a crowd, you sprint towards a marketplace. Perfect, permacrete, and a large crowd huddling for shelter. You pinch a new cloak off a stand, sliding the vendor extra and dumping your previous onto the ground. Keeping your head down, playing the role of a simple window shopper. Maker, your heart is racing. This was exactly what you imagined and more. 

You hear beskar against the permacrete, freezing, you keep your head down. You know he's barely a foot away, praying silently that your disguise worked. As the footsteps grow distant, you allow a breath you didn't know you were holding to fall. A small smile playing on your face. Perhaps he was going easy on you, or maybe, just maybe, it worked. That was too close. 

You head in the opposite direction, pushing your way back through the crowd, as darkness falls. Hopefully, you could catch a ride off-planet, or at least find a hiding spot suitable to spend the night in. Your cloak is soaked, the wool weighing heavy on your shoulders. With great trepidation you poke your head around the corner of another alleyway, it seems clear. There's no one around, but you're vulnerable and it's putting images of all the things he's going to do to you when he catches you. It's making you so complacent, that you yelp as a hand grips your forearm, pushing you against the wall and bringing your face to face with Boba Fett. 

"Got you." His voice is like velvet, and you're already trembling with anticipation. You stare up at his visor, your eyes darkened with lust. "An easy mistake, little one. You didn't check the roof." His head tilts, taunting you. You swear you heard a tut escape his lips, distorted by his helmet. Dammit. "I guess I have little choice but to surrender…" You muttered, bowing your head in defeat. Two gloved fingers come under your chin, guiding your head back up to meet his gaze. 

A chuckle, but not a pleasant one, escapes him. Deep, dark, and wanting. "Surrender? I like the sound of that." Boba's grip on your chin tightens, his words rolling off his tongu. How easy you were, giving yourself to him with little complaint. You almost whined, feeling his knee separate your shaking legs. "Well— I will go back to the ship willingly—" You stammered, as he lets out another low chuckle. "The ship? Oh no, little one. I think I'll claim my prize right here." That was it, your hips rolled against his knee by their own accord, all inhibitions are gone. You wanted him, no, needed him now. 

Head rolling back against the wall as he dug his knee deeper, your cunt throbbing onto the cool beskar."Look how desperate you are, riding my knee in public. Making me chase you…" Boba trails off, palming himself through his pants. "I am desperate." You had no shame anymore, moaning your words as you grow needier for friction. "I think you'd let me eat your cunt right here, wouldn't you, princess?" Maker, just the sound of it makes you squirm, his chest roughly pressing into yours. "Please." You whine, uncaring about how wanton you probably sound. 

Boba takes no time pulling your pants down, one leg hoisted up and onto his shoulder as he falls to his knees. You hear the hiss of hydraulics and a thud on the ground below. Helmet now gone, Boba wastes no time, his tongue teas in your slit. Your thighs shake on contact, hearing Boba murmur about you tasting "sweeter than Corellian wine." 

By the time he begins to suck on your clit, you feel already far gone. He was right, you were needy, and you definitely would let him eat your cunt right here. Boba's large hands move to your hips, steadying you against the sandstone as you try to buck wildly into his mouth. His knees dirtied from the ground below, you feel one hand leave your hip, a gloved hand gathering your slick as he hums in approval. Stars, he was good with his tongue. 

When a finger enters you, rough and textured, you practically purr in delight. The small circles he tracing against your clit quickened as he feels you clench around his fingers, lapping up everything you were offering him. You stared down at his face, buried between your legs, framed by moonlight with dark eyes boring holes into your own. "Fuck— Boba.." The words do not appear, burying themselves as your throat lets out a strained whimper. 

Another finger enters with ease, you were dripping, the sight of him with your leg on his shoulders, the course leather teasing the spot that only he could ever find. In seconds you were gushing against his fingers, saliva escaping your mouth as he relentlessly worked your clit. Your vision faded, ears ringing as Boba pulled your high out for as long as possible until tears pricked the corners of your eyes, oversensitivity making you jump at the subtlest touch. His ministrations lessened, just holding you there at the hip as you fell back to earth. 

You looked down to see him, fucking smirking at you, licking his gloved fingers clean. His face glistened as the heat rises to your cheeks, the sudden embarrassment of acting in such a way where anyone could walk by and see you with your legs spread for the most wanted man in the galaxy, and the worst part was you worshiped it. You loved what he did to you, how he could work your body to bend to his will. 

Boba got off his knees, pulling you into a kiss, you tasted yourself on his tongue, groaning open-mouthed as you felt his hands return to your hips. He broke the kiss while he harshly turned you, your cheek now against the wall. You felt him rut into you as if asking you silently for permission. You granted it, meeting his movements with your own, feeling how hard he was through several layers of clothing.

"Please, maker, please!" Your request was more urgent than intended. Boba's hand reaches your hair, brushing away from the tendrils of sweat clinging to the nape of your neck. "Patience." He replies through gritted teeth. He's struggling too, you hear a clank, his armor. He rests his head on your shoulder, heated breath against your neck, chapped lips peppering kisses across your jugular. You practically cry in relief when you feel his cock, gathering your wetness before slowly, torturously pushing into you. 

Two days apart has left you both insatiable, an audible grunt of relief escapes Boba's lips. Your cunt bracing around him like a vice, you didn't know how much you needed him until this moment, oversensitive, face against the wall. He pulls out as you mumble something intelligible, the emptiness feeling as if it would last forever. He enters you fully this time, with such force you bounce against the wall. You take it all freely, delighting in how thick he is. "Such a greedy little thing. Begging me to chase you, begging me to fuck you." His voice low and raw, his hand now tugging your hair. The other finds your clit, swollen and sore. 

"You can give me another, I know it. Feel that? How tight you are around my cock? Let go, little one. I know you want to." He whispers like it's a prayer, lulling you into another orgasm. He tenses inside you, chasing his release. Fuck, he's so tempting. You meet each thrust eagerly, his fingers never leaving your clit."I— can't! I—" Tears began to fall down your face, subdued by sensitivity, you grip the wall for strength. 

You feel like a ton of bricks crumbled on you, crying out. Your eyes rolling back, mouth open, and back arched. The only word you knew was his name, nothing else in the galaxy mattered, the only thing that did was him making you come undone on his cock. Every muscle against you twitched, Boba's body was now taut. His lips caressed your neck, biting down with a shaky breath as he twitches inside your cunt. 

He kisses the spot where he bit you, his hand cradling the back of your head, brushing your hair tenderly. You feel a rush of cold air when he pulls out, a stark difference to before. Warmth seeps down your thighs, both panting and basking in the moonlight of afterglow. Finally, you separate yourself from the sandstone, taking all your might to stay standing. He covers you, pulling your pants up for you, whispering about how you'll need a trip to the refresher. 

Boba's lips graze your forehead before he places his helmet on, hiding from you once more. "Come on, princess. Let's go home." His arm slides under your knees, holding you firmly bridal, bundling you up in your cloak as he carries you back to his ship. You lie tired and spent against his chest, your heart swelling with devotion as you doze off in his arms. 

#boba fett #boba fett x female reader #star wars #the mandalorian #fic #mine #I'm really nervous lol #I'm very new here and I 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️ #I hope I tagged right 😔 #AHHHH okay ill stop freaking now

[just-benni]

Home Early

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky comes home early from a mission to find Y/N in his apartment, making herself comfortable

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst

“Al, what’s wrong baby?” You cooed toward Bucky’s white-furred cat. You’d never seen Alpine in such a depressed state. But it made sense, Bucky had already been away on mission for almost three weeks.

Surprisingly, Alpine allowed you to pet her and didn’t try to bite or claw your hand off. She wasn’t the friendliest of cats towards you, or towards people in general, Bucky included. Overtime, you’ve become immune to her scratches and biting, some scars here and there. You knew that Bucky had a soft spot for the feline.

“Alright then, Al,” you stood, huffing out a breath. “Food is in your bowl if you wanna eat.” Alpine meowed in response as you left the room, as if she were thanking you.

You loved Bucky’s apartment. Just how small yet spacious it was, a perfect fit for him considering he wasn’t someone to keep a clutter of unnecessary things. Bucky had mentioned to you one time that it was easier to live like that. Not getting attached to inanimate objects made it easier for if he ever had to go on the run again. It wasn’t totally likely that he would have to go into hiding again but considering what Bucky had been through already, it was definitely a possibility.

A framed picture set on his dresser came into view. You smiled to yourself, remembering the day the photo was taken. It was the Fourth of July a few years back when you and Bucky weren’t together yet. The team took a trip to Tony’s mansion sized cabin in the mountains to celebrate the American holiday, as well as Steve turning another year older.

The photo came about when Peter was going around, taking pictures to have memories of what a fun weekend it was. It was you and Bucky in the frame, sitting on opposite ends of a cut up tree log, only to be ushered closer by Peter. You, being tipsy, you didn’t object to getting closer to Bucky and wrapped your arm around his shoulders. 

Bucky told you a different story of how the picture came to be. He explained that you weren’t just tipsy, but rather, Tony and Sam had managed to get you full on drunk. When you got up to get another drink, you misstepped and Bucky caught you before you could land face first on the dirt floor. He sat you next to him to keep you steady and he remembered you slurring out words about how warm he was, then the two of you argued that it was the fire keeping you warm, not him. At that point, Peter appeared with his camera and you circled your arm around Buck’s neck like in the picture, displaying a bright smile on your face.

Bucky didn’t oblige so quickly to smile along with you. In fact, the one thing you remember vividly is you having to scold him, “Smile and at least act like you like being next to me.” He of course smiled, though it was more like a grin but you took it for what it was. Peter sent you the picture in the days following and as a gift for Bucky when he moved into his apartment, you printed and framed the photo.

You brushed your finger over the edge of the frame before heading into the bathroom to do a face mask. Bucky would be home any day now and you wanted to do some self-care tasks before he returned, not necessarily for him. You knew Bucky would shower you with compliments no matter how you looked.

You applied the paste-like substance to your face evenly and popped your earbuds in, blasting your music at full volume because why not? The apartment was too quiet for you not think about ghosts or some supernatural thing coming to haunt you, making you miss Bucky even more. He made you feel safe, without a doubt.

You sat out on the balcony furniture, propping your legs up on the railing and laying back against the chair. You either had your eyes closed or looked out at the sunset view. It always reminded you of Bucky. Every so often, he would tell stories about growing up with Steve and all trouble they got into. 

You jumped up when you felt a cold touch to your shoulder. Standing with a jolt, you turned and saw Bucky standing there. “Oh.” You ripped out the earphones from your ears, “What are you doing home?”

“Well unless you know something I don’t, this is my apartment.”

“But you weren’t supposed to be home for hours. It’s too early for you to be home!”

“Got the mission done early.” He smirked, looking at you up and down of your appearance. It wasn’t often that Bucky got the high ground against you. “Is that my shirt?”

You shielded your face from being seen, failing miserably. “I’m gonna go wash this off.”

You try to subtly brush past him but he didn’t let you get very far by wrapping his arm around your waist, and hoisting you from the ground so your back was pressed against his chest. You tried to pry his hands off of you, whimpering when he wouldn’t release you. “What’s wrong doll? I thought you would be happy to see me.”

“Bucky! You cannot see me like this!” You demanded, trying to dig your nails into his flesh arm which had no effect on him. “I look like a scary monster from a horror film!”

“Then you’re by far the most beautiful monster I’ve ever seen,” Bucky turned himself around and set you down so you were back onto the balcony.

“Fine, you wanna play like that?” As quickly as you could, you rubbed your face and swiped some of the cream onto Bucky’s scruffy face. The two of you laughed as Bucky grabbed a hold of your forearms and you squirmed to escape his grasp once again. “You started it, hon.”

“You’re the one at my apartment.” Bucky pinned you against the railing, his face at a close distance from yours.

“You’re gonna get more on your face if you get any closer.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Bucky closed off the space between the two of you. You smiled into the kiss, missing the warmth it brought you. There was a distant meow from behind Bucky, making the two of you separate from the kiss.

“She really missed you.” You commented, watching Alpine stretch before moving towards you both.

“I missed the both of you.” Bucky attempted to wipe your face mask off his skin but there was still some residue left on his cheek.

“So pretty,” you teased, finally getting past Bucky and headed into the bathroom. You heard Bucky in his bedroom, talking to Alpine. You found him sitting at the foot of his bed. You stepped in between his legs, cupping his face with one hand to wipe his face with a damp cloth.

“Will you stay for the night?” He questioned timidly.

“Sure. Are you hungry?”

“Not really. All I want is to sleep.”

“Okay, why don’t you go shower and change into some comfier clothes?”

You backed away to give him space only to be pulled back and settled you to sit at his side. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, what’s up? Is it the mission? Everything go okay? You’re not hurt are you?” You briefly examined him, checking for any cuts, bruises, and especially blood. Fortunately, there was nothing visible to the surface.

“Relax, Y/N. Everything and everyone is fine. The mission went smooth.”

You blushed. “Sorry, what was it you wanted to ask?”

“Just now, I loved the way that I got to come home to you like I did. Today is something I want to have every time I go on a mission.” Bucky paused and you knew there were tons of anxious thoughts going through his head. “So I was maybe thinking we could move in together. You can move here with me.”

“I would need to think about it. But are you sure about this?”

He displayed a soft smile, softening his steel blue eyes. “Trying to talk me out of it?”

“No, no.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Well, I’m not totally opposed to it,” you started, still processing that Bucky had asked you to move in. You were weighing out the pros and cons in your head momentarily. There was so much rummaging in your head, it was hard to give him a definite answer. 

“Y/N.”

“No, yeah, sorry. I’m just thinking.”

Bucky stood abruptly, shifting himself towards the bathroom. “You know what, forget I said anything. I just ruined the whole night.”

“No, stop,” you scolded. “Don’t say that. It’s fine.”

“I’m gonna go take a shower, give you time to think. But it’s alright if you say no, I understand if this is too fast.”

You separated, Bucky into the bathroom and you into the kitchen to make some tea. Alpine followed you, prowling along the marble counter.

“What do you think, Al? Should I move in with you and that moody soldier?” You scratched behind her ear. “You haven’t bitten me yet I’ll assume that’s a yes, or at least not a definite no.”

Not long after, Bucky came and found you in the kitchen, unsure of where the two of you stood.

“Here,” you offered him a mug of warm tea. “To help you sleep.”

He thanked you silently as he took the cup in his hands. It was quiet for a few moments until he spoke up, “I was way in over my head when I asked you. You don’t have to move in. It was stupid of me to ask.”

“So you didn’t mean it when you asked me to move in?”

“Fuck.” Bucky was flustered, unintentionally burning himself when he took a sip of the drink. He set it down to cool, almost forgetting you had asked him a question. “No.”

“No, as in you don’t want me to move in or no you didn’t mean it?”

“I do want you to move in. But you think it’s a bad idea, I get it, it’s fine you don’t want to.” You rolled your eyes. You loved him to death but sometimes men were idiots.

“Will you look at me?” You clasped your hands around his neck, stepping directly in front of him to lock his gaze. Your voice was calm, trying not to further set off Bucky’s nerves. “I never said I didn’t want to move in with you.”

“You didn’t have to,” he started. “If you really wanted to, you would’ve said yes already.”

“You can’t just drop something like that onto me and expect me to have an answer within a few seconds. Moving in together is a really big step in a relationship and I just wanna make sure we play this right. We’re not a regular couple.”

“We can talk about this tomorrow or forget about it altogether, I’m tired.”

“But I don’t wanna forget about it.” You followed close behind Bucky into the bedroom. “This conversation is gonna come up again sooner or later. Please, just let me talk?”

“Fine.” He sat comfortably on the edge of his bed, you taking the seat at his side. 

“You make me very happy. You have for almost two years. I’m actually surprised it’s taken us this long to get to this conversation. And you obviously want this. You’re acting like you don’t and you can’t do that. You deserve to want things for yourself.”

“But is this what you want? It’s not only about what I want.” You turned your head to his, meeting his soft, concerning eyes that made a fluttering go off in your stomach. Even after all these years, he was still able to do that and you wondered how. “Y/N?”

You had your answer. “I’ll move in with you.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes, but one thing first.”

Bucky stood, already in celebration mode by peppering your hand with delicate kisses. With ease, he pulled you to your feet. “What is it, doll? Anything.”

“I’m gonna need a lot of closet space.”

“Baby, I’ll throw all my clothes out the window if that’s what it takes to get you to move in.” The two of you broke out in a fit of laughter, Bucky circling his arms around your shoulders and pressing kisses to your head. You feel Bucky relax into your arms. “I love you.”

“I know.” You press a kiss to his collarbone. “I love you too.”

Bucky stood, offering his hand to you, “Come on now, we have to rest up.”

“Rest for what, old man?”

“Moving your things here, keep up.”

The two of you proceeded to stay in each other’s arms, gently shifting weight from one foot to the other, having little conversation. You could definitely get used to this.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #fluff #angst

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Season 1, Episode 12: Code Breaker

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader

Warnings: two very justified character deaths 

Notes: I feel like I blacked out and now we’re somehow on the last episode. Not sure how that happened so fast but here we are. Just prepare yourself bc this one is entirely too long but I didn’t want to do two parts 🤷‍♀️

Does anyone want me to continue with Season 2? Please let me know bc I won’t do it unless people are actually interested.

I also wanted to give a shoutout to everyone who has sent me nice comments and showed love on this series. It’s meant the absolute world to me!

Okay now let’s get some closure!

                                                    ————————

I walked through the hallways of the high school, using every ounce of willpower I could muster to keep my eyes firmly planted in front of me.

The pressure of dozens of curious stares weighed on my back as I made my way toward the lockers briskly. From the moment I walked through the doors a few minutes ago, all eyes had been on me. I squared my shoulders and forced my head to remain up high.

If people wanted to gossip, they could go right ahead.

My pace quickened as I heard the unmistakable sound of judgmental whispering behind me. I pinched my eyes shut tightly and tried my best to block out the irritating noise. I just wanted to get my books and go to class. At least there, I would see Scott, Stiles, and Allison.

Once I reached my locker, I shakily dialed in my code and popped the small metal door open. I instantly stumbled back, my eyes going wide as a shit ton of dirt came spilling out. I stood still for a few seconds, blinking slowly as I tried figuring out what the hell just happened.

With a frown, I wiped my hands against my jeans, which were now covered in the stuff. My eyes flickered down toward the pile of soil on the tiles in front of my feet, my brows furrowing in confusion.

How the hell did that much dirt get into my locker? How did any dirt get into my locker?

I glanced around the hall slowly, anxious to see my classmates reactions. I was already the weird girl after everything at the dance. I didn’t want to be the even weirder girl who keeps dirt in the locker.

A surprised breath left my lips as I saw that the halls were now completely empty. I turned all the way around, peering in both directions, but there wasn’t a single soul here with me. My head started pounding and I winced at the unexpected sensation before rubbing at my temples gently.

I swiveled back toward my locker, wanting nothing more than for this day to be over. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this yet. I instantly froze at the sight of a single purple flower sitting in the middle of the dirt pile. I was almost certain it hadn’t been there a moment before.

My heartbeat thrummed loudly in my ears as I reached a trembling hand inside the small space. I tentatively plucked the plant, which I easily recognized as wolfsbane, out of the soil. My eyes flickered around the purple leaves and long, green stem as my confusion only grew.

Just then, an ear piercing scream echoed through the halls. I whipped around, instantly going rigid when I saw that I was no longer in the school, but standing in the middle of the lacrosse field.

I glanced around the empty stadium, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Did I suddenly develop the ability to teleport? Or was I losing my damn mind? My eyes trailed downward as I felt cool air brush against my legs. My breath hitched as I saw that I was wearing my formal dress. The navy fabric was covered in blood and dirt, the strap on my left shoulder torn to shreds.

A bolt of fear licked up my spine as I heard rustling directly in front of me. My gaze slowly swept upward before landing on a pair of glowing red eyes that were illuminated in the shadowy distance. My eyes pinched shut as terror coursed through me when they started moving closer.

“It’s not real.” The mantra was a shaky whisper as my body trembled. “It’s not real. It’s not—”

Just then, my eyes jerked open on their own accord. I bolted upright with a harsh gasp, my throat constricting painfully as I sputtered and coughed a few times. One of my hands came up to clutch at my chest as I tried desperately to catch my breath.

Only a split second passed before Stiles flailed into a sitting position beside me. He whipped his head from side to side with wide eyes, as if searching for the cause of my panic. Once his attention landed back on me, he instantly pulled me into his chest and began murmuring lowly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” One of his hands rubbed at my back while the other cradled my head against him.

“Lydia...” I gasped, my breath coming out in quick, trembling spurts. The dream had been some sort of vision or clue...it just had to be.

“Lydia’s alright, okay? They’re gonna find her.” Stiles’ fingers threaded through my hair and massaged my scalp soothingly.

“What? What is it? What happened?” Scott’s head suddenly popped up at the foot of my bed, his hair so messy it looked like he’d been hurled through a tornado.

“Another nightmare.” I breathed, feeling my heartrate dropping back down to normal as Stiles’ hands continued rubbing against me gently. 

Scott sighed from the floor, his shoulders sagging in relief. One of his hands came up to massage the back of his neck and he grimaced uncomfortably. “Cool. Is it my turn on the bed yet?”

“You can curl up down here if you want, like a good puppy.” Stiles smirked at his own joke as one of his hands left me to point toward our feet.

“Scott, just go sleep in your own bed. It’s literally right there.” I gestured to my window, which faced his, and slowly pulled away from Stiles.

As much as I would love to stay in his arms forever, I had to learn to get ahold of myself on my own. They couldn’t keep babying me. Both of them had done nothing but obsess over my health from the moment I was discharged out of the hospital two days ago. 

Scott had refused to leave my side since I’d gotten home, other than the brief moments he made appearances in his own house so that his mom knew he was still alive. He insisted it was to keep an eye on me, and that was partially true, but he was also basically in hiding right now. 

Jackson, being the wonderful friend that he is, somehow found the time to tell Mr. Argent that Scott is the beta they’ve been looking for, kindly adding on to our reasons-life-is-currently-terrible list.

“And let you guys have all the fun without me?” Scott mumbled sarcastically and leaned back to lay on the pillow and blanket I’d set up for him on the hardwood floor.

This had been our routine for two days. Mom banned me from having any visitors while I recover, but that hadn’t stopped Scott from staying or Stiles from sneaking in after school. Each night, I could barely make it through a few hours of sleep at a time before jerking awake from yet another nightmare. Or maybe they were visions. I honestly had no idea.

My days had also been...weird, to say the least. Most of the time, it was hard to tell whether or not I was awake. My sense of reality was seriously fucked up. I was having almost constant visions and dreams, and they never made any sense. It felt like my subconscious was trying to tell me something, but in another language I had yet to learn.

Lydia was still missing, and I was beyond worried sick. Sheriff Stilinski and the entire police department had searched every square inch of Beacon Hills over the course of the last two days, and hadn’t found a single trace of her.

Aside from that shitshow, I also hadn’t spoken to Allison since the last time I’d seen her at the dance. No one had, actually.

Scott—when he wasn’t fawning over me—was losing his mind because apparently while I was being a dumbass and getting myself bitten, Mr. Argent somehow made him shift in front of Allison. Then, he shipped her and Kate off to an undisclosed location until further notice.

I’d sent her a few texts since being home, but she only responded once. The words had replayed in my mind over and over for several hours after reading them as I tried figuring out an acceptable response.

You knew the whole time, didn’t you?

I eventually decided not to answer at all. What could I say? I’d kept something huge from her, although it was never really my secret to tell anyway. She had every right to be pissed off. I wanted to address it in person and, honestly, didn’t have the mental capacity to worry much about it right now.

I blinked a few times, feeling myself come back from my dazed thoughts as Scott and Stiles’ voices fluttered back to my ears. I’d been doing that a lot, too. Getting lost in my mind for several minutes at a time, if not longer. I felt a curious gaze on my face and took in a slow, deep breath before lifting my head to meet Stiles’ eyes.

My heart clenched uncomfortably in my chest at the look he was giving me. It was the same expression that had been etched into his face ever since I’d woken up in the hospital. It was like he was afraid I would try to kill him at any given moment, while simultaneously worrying that I’d suffer a mental break or croak on the spot.

I heard the rumbling sound of snoring from the floor and knew that Scott was already out cold again.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” I sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. I glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table, noting with a regretful wince that it was three in the morning. He had school in only a few hours.

Stiles’ eyes inspected me tenderly, rounding with concern as he reached out to tuck a stray clump of hair behind my ear gently. “I wasn’t sleeping. You stole my pillow, so...”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He apparently couldn’t sleep without the thing and had brought it with him each night. It was quite possibly the most adorable thing ever.

“I’m still sorry.” My voice was barely above a whisper as I looked down toward my lap and fidgeted with my fingers. 

Ever since I was bitten I’d felt...different. Like a burden. Out of control. It was as if my mind was warring with itself all day, every day. I had a constant nagging fear that I was forgetting something important. It was like it was on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn’t remember.

Stiles leaned toward me slowly and cupped my cheek before placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. His fingers trailed down to brush against the side of my neck before tangling in the hair at the base of my skull. His free hand came up to the other side of my head and he pulled it down against his chest. My eyes fluttered shut as a sigh left my lips.

A sense of peace always washed over me when he was near. Despite everything going on, all it took was a small touch to quiet my racing mind. I felt myself relaxing, if only slightly, in his arms. A moment later, I leaned back to look at him again, my stomach fluttering at the intense gleam of worry shining in his caramel eyes.

“There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?” My voice broke and I furrowed my brows as traitorous tears filled my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to feel sorry for myself. I wanted to get better.

Stiles glanced fleetingly at the place where Peter had bitten me, but jerked his attention back to my face quickly, probably hoping I hadn’t noticed. “Whatever it is...we’ll figure it out.”

Somehow, his response wasn’t all that comforting. I didn’t doubt for a second that he’d be there for me every step of the way as I went through whatever this was. I’d watched how he helped Scott during the early stages of his transformation, and it was admirable. But I didn’t want there to be anything wrong. I didn’t want there to be anything different about me.

I just wanted to be normal.

“C’mere...” Stiles opened his arms and I couldn’t help but instantly fall into them.

He pulled me tight against him and leaned back, snagging his pillow from my side of the bed on the way down. My eyes fluttered shut as I laid there on top of him, my legs between his and my head resting above his heart.

I listened to the steady rhythm of his pulse, feeling it lull me to sleep within seconds.

                                                    ————————

I leaned back against my headboard, adjusting the book that rested atop my knees. My bottom lip was tucked between my teeth anxiously as I flipped another page. I narrowed my eyes as they swept over the words, urging my mind to comprehend them. I just couldn’t. I was way too distracted.

My eyes flickered up to find Scott lounging in my desk chair across the room. He was playing some game on his phone and it was making this annoying boing sound every few seconds. It was starting to drive me crazy, but it wasn’t the only thing causing my jitters. 

I glanced away from him to look out my open window and sighed heavily. It was already dark outside, and Stiles wasn’t here yet.

It wasn’t usually like me to jump to conclusions, but considering the state of our lives right now, it wasn’t a stretch to be worried. At this point, though, I was moving toward a full on panic attack. School ended six hours ago. What could he possibly be doing?

I opened my mouth to voice my concern, but never got a chance as Scott interrupted me before I could get even a single word out.

“He’s fine.” He said absently, his eyes never leaving his phone’s screen.

My eyebrows twitched up in surprise. “How did you know...”

“I can hear your heart racing.” He sighed and finally dropped his phone onto my desk before lifting his eyes to meet mine. “You either just ran a marathon, or you’re worried about something. That something is usually Stiles. And he’s fine.”

I rolled my lips into a tight line at the way he’d just read me so easily. “But it’s already—”

Just then, something thumped outside my window loudly. I stiffened at the sound, and Scott perked up in his chair, instantly on high alert. There was a low groan before a figure clambered through the opening. I instantly knew it was Stiles as I caught sight of his red flannel. He flailed to the floor spastically with a yelp and I slammed my book closed before bolting to my feet.

I rushed to his side, my arms wrapping around him as he struggled to get up. His chest heaved with ragged breaths as if he’d run the whole way here.

“Where were you? Are you okay? What happened?” I couldn’t stop the panicked words from tumbling past my lips.

My eyes trailed over him quickly to assess for any damage. His freckled cheeks were flushed and the top three buttons on his flannel were undone, exposing his white undershirt. He looked a little roughed up, but not hurt.

He finally stood up straight and his eyes widened when they met mine, as if only just then realizing that I was beside him. He gripped my upper arms sternly before walking me backward.

“What are you doing? Get back in bed.” I had no choice but to plop down onto the mattress as the back of my knees ran right into it.

“Don’t change the subject, Stilinski.” I frowned up at him and his eyes twitched in warning.

“Oh, God. Please don’t make me listen to another who’s more worried about who fight. I might seriously puke this time.” Scott practically threw himself onto the bed beside me, a look of feigned disgust taking over his face.

My eyes swept toward him and narrowed into a glare only briefly, as my attention moved back to Stiles when he started talking again.

“Moving on.” He sent a pointed look Scott’s way before continuing, his hands gesturing quickly in front of him. He was anxious, that much was obvious. “I had a uh...talk with Chris—”

“Who?” I interrupted, thrown off by the unfamiliar name.

Stiles’ eyes twitched at me in annoyance as he flailed one of his arms in a circle, signaling that we didn’t have much time. “Argent.”

“You call Allison’s dad Chris?” My voice rose in disbelief. Since when was that a thing?

“Oh my God. This is important, okay? He tried to get me and Jackson to tell him where Scott is and—”

Scott sprang upright on the bed, his eyes wide with alarm. “Why were you with Jackson?”

“Can I just finish? Is that alright with you two?” Stiles’ voice rose in frustration, his eyes pinching shut for a brief moment after he shouted.

Both Scott and I froze and he sighed before running a hand down his face. His gaze flickered to Scott as he extended a hand out apprehensively. “He’s literally planning to kill you. Tonight. Okay? So you can’t—”

Scott suddenly rose to his feet, his face tight with determination. “I need to find Derek.”

Stiles’ fingers curled into a fist, still hanging in the air, as he pursed his lips when Scott brushed past him. “Why do we keep going back to him? He’s like your abusive ex, okay? You have a problem. And did you miss the part where I just said you could be murdered by werewolf hunters at any given moment?”

“If the Argents are after me, he’s the only one who can help.” Scott braced his hands against my windowsill and turned to glare at Stiles over his shoulder.

Before either of us could ask him what he was doing, he doubled over with a low groan. I realized he was shifting and tentatively slid back on my mattress, not sure what was going on. I knew he would never hurt me, but I hadn’t seen anything supernatural since being bitten. It instantly had me on edge.

Then, he jerked upright and howled loudly into the dark sky. 

I winced at the deep, rumbling sound, feeling a painful twinge in my head. One of my hands came up to cradle my temple as my lips parted in a silent gasp. The noise was vibrating all the way in my bones, overwhelming every one of my senses. I felt myself slipping away from the present, my eyes wide but unfocused. I faintly registered an arm wrapping around my back as Stiles rushed to kneel in front of me. 

His free hand cupped my face, his lips moving rapidly as he tried to bring me back. I suddenly had the strong urge to close my eyes, so I let them flutter down slowly. Instantly, my breath caught as an image of Derek’s house popped into my mind. There were way too many things happening to decipher any of it. My brows furrowed as I tried making sense of what I was seeing. 

The clearest picture was the most gruesome. Blood. Everywhere. 

A painful spasm in my left shoulder had my eyes jerking open. They met Stiles’ wide, panicked gaze as he hovered only a few inches away from me. With a snap, his and Scott’s voices rushed into my ears. 

“What the hell did you do to her?” Stiles practically yelled, his voice tight with anxiety and a hint of anger. His hands were clutching my arms as he jostled me awake.

Scott appeared at his side above me, his face crumbled in horror. “I-I didn’t do anything! I didn’t mean to...”

“I think I know where to find him.” I interrupted breathily, blinking a few times to focus my eyes. I sat up with a groan, my head pounding harshly. Stiles tightened his grip on me as he tried to keep me steady. “His house. I saw it.”

Scott’s face dropped from beside me, his brows furrowing as his lips pulled into a frown. “So did I.”

We shared a long, curious glance. I had no idea what that meant, and judging by the glint of wonder reflecting in his eyes, neither did he. 

“So we’re just not gonna talk about whatever that was?” Stiles asked incredulously. He e took a step away from me and shrugged sarcastically with a tilt of his head. 

“We don’t have time.” I pushed myself up to my feet and strode toward my closet hurriedly. 

It was freezing outside by now, and I wanted to be prepared for once. I rustled through my sweaters until I found one I didn’t mind ruining. My shoulder protested each movement as I wrestled it over my head, but I tried my best to ignore it. I turned on my heel to face the guys and froze at the looks they were giving me. 

Scott seemed hesitant, but didn’t look like he was going to argue, while Stiles was very much unimpressed. 

“That’s funny.” He laughed humorlessly and pointed at me. “It looks like you think you’re going somewhere.”

I frowned at his demanding tone. “I’m sorry, are you my mother? No? Okay. That’s what I thought.”

I brushed past him to find a pair of socks in my dresser. If he thought he was going to start telling me what to do just because we’re dating, he had another thing coming. My eyes flickered up to meet his in the mirror as I heard rustling behind me.

“You can’t seriously—” His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to find the right words. I pulled out a mismatched pair of socks and turned to lean against the dresser as I slid them on. “Scott, tell her how stupid this is.” 

“Hell no. I’m not getting involved.” He glanced between us with wide eyes, lifting his hands in surrender. 

“If we don’t go now, Derek is going to die.” I forced the words out through clenched teeth, growing impatient. Somehow, I knew that’s the future we were up against, despite not having actually seen it happen. I just knew. 

“Since when do we care about that?” Stiles swiveled his head as his eyebrows rose in question. 

Scott stepped forward, suddenly looking pensive. “I’m not going to just let him die.”

“I’m the only sane one left...” Stiles muttered to himself, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 

After several more minutes of pointless arguing, a very disgruntled Stiles finally agreed to drive us to Derek’s. The three of us had barely made it a few steps outside the Jeep before he came barreling from the house, looking unpleasant as ever. 

“What the hell are you doing? None of you should be here right now.” His angry voice echoed through the trees as he continued stalking forward until he stood right in front of us. 

“Finally, someone’s making—oh my God!” Stiles didn’t have a chance to finish his thought as an arrow came out of nowhere and embedded itself into Derek’s shoulder. 

My eyes widened in shock and I whipped around just as another arrow came from the trees to land in his thigh. He crumpled to the ground with a groan, clutching at his injuries. 

“Close your eyes!” He shouted and tucked his face into his elbow. 

Long fingers clasped around my bicep and I was jerked to the side before another hand shoved my head into a warm chest. I screwed my eyes shut tightly, a quiet boom sounding beside us. Stiles and I separated quickly to see what it was, but my eyes landed on Scott instead. 

He was crouched down on all fours, blinking rapidly. He hadn’t been fast enough. He squinted into the distance and I followed his line of sight, but came up empty. 

Derek grunted lowly as he broke off the shafts of each arrow that still lay inside him. He stumbled to his feet and grabbed Scott by the collar of his jacket. “Get to the house!” 

Stiles and I didn’t hesitate to obey as we bolted in that direction, our hands tangled together. We only made it about halfway before Derek slumped to the ground behind us, exhausted. I staggered to a halt at the sound and nearly lost my balance when Stiles continued moving. 

His eyes flickered from me to the place where Scott and Derek lay crumpled on the ground in a moment of hesitation. With a grimace, he let me go and we both jogged their way. 

“No! Go!” Derek’s head popped up and he tried waving us off, but it was too late. 

I froze, partially crouched beside him, as a thin figure emerged from the darkness. She was stomping toward us with a huge bow slung over her shoulder. The dim light from Derek’s porch illuminated her face as she neared us, and my breath caught in my throat. It was the last person I expected to see.

“Allison, I can explain—” Scott immediately stammered desperately, still trying to get his bearings after being stunned by the flash bullet. I realized at then that it was the same type she’d tried out with me and Lydia the week before formal.

“Stop lying.” She barked, her voice tight with built up anger. Her eyes flickered up to meet mine, my chest tightening at the intense betrayal swirling inside them. “All of you, for once, stop lying.”

“I was gonna tell you the truth. I was gonna tell you everything at the formal.” Scott rushed the words out in a panic as he shuffled backward to match each step she took toward him. “Everything that I said...everything I did...”

“Was to protect me.” She finished with a humorless scoff, fingers tightening around the arrow she held at her side.

“Yes.” He instantly confirmed, pleading with her to understand. 

I knew exactly how she felt. Being kept in the dark sucked, no matter which way it was spun. Maybe she had been safer this whole time because she didn’t know. Or maybe all his secret did was create an irreparable wedge between them. She was bound to find out eventually, considering who her family was, and this whole mess was probably the worst way it could’ve happened. 

Allison’s eyes glistened as she peered down at him, her hardened mask of hatred cracking just slightly. Her voice trembled as a few tears escaped down her cheeks. “I don’t believe you.” 

“Thank God!” I jumped at the sudden voice from the darkness, and watched as Kate stalked out of the tree line with a roll of her eyes. “Now shoot him before I have to shoot myself.”

My heart leapt into my throat at her words. With Scott dazed and Derek seriously injured, there wasn’t much we could do to stop her from killing either one of them. The reality of our situation hit me like a ton of bricks. Stiles and I were utterly useless. 

“Y-you said we were just going to catch them.” Allison sputtered, head jerking toward her aunt in surprise. 

“Yeah, and we did that. Now we’re going to kill them.” Kate raised an arm absently and shot a bullet right into Derek’s chest as she passed by, not even sparing him a glance. “See? Not that hard.”

I gasped at the unexpected act of violence, my jaw going slack. He instantly fell against the damp ground, motionless. 

Holy shit. Oh my God. Is he actually dead?

Allison’s horrified expression matched mine, more tears coating her face as she stared at Derek’s lifeless body. She stiffened when her aunt joined her in front of Scott, who was still gaping from his crouched position.

“Oh no, not that look.” Kate mused, not sounding the least bit genuine. “That’s the you’re going to have to do it yourself look.”

She raised her gun toward Scott’s chest, a manic grin pulling at her lips. I moved without thinking, taking a big step in their direction. Allison instantly started freaking out and tried to put herself between them, but Kate shoved her away harshly. 

She tumbled to the ground just as a hand clasped around my wrist to stop me. I yanked against it, my chest tightening with panic. I had to get over there. I had to help. 

“Y/N! Y/N, stop!” Stiles yelled frantically from behind me, his hold falling loose as I continued struggling against him. 

I ran forward and staggered to a halt beside Kate, who was still pointing the gun at Scott, having no idea what to do now that I was here. She glanced toward me and sighed with a disinterested roll of her eyes. Before I even fully registered that she moved, I was already on the ground. She’d whipped the gun against the side of my face harshly, white hot pain instantly rippling through my head. 

“No!” I heard Allison shout in horror. 

A groan trembled past my lips as I shakily pulled myself up onto my elbows. My vision blurred as Scott jerked upright, about to rush to my side before Kate aimed the gun at his chest again. He froze, his wide eyes never leaving me. I brought a hand up to my temple and hissed when my fingers landed on a warm trickle of blood. 

“Ah, ah...” Kate tutted, amusement shining in her eyes as she glanced behind me, gun following the movement. 

I turned my head and saw Stiles freeze mid-sprint toward me. His eyes narrowed into an angry glare as his jaw clenched tightly, but he didn’t move an inch. I let out a huff, growing frustrated by this whole stupid situation, and swept my gaze back to Kate. 

“Just shoot someone already.” I barked, annoyed with her games. 

Was it stupid to taunt the person with the weapon? Yes. Did I give a fuck? No. At this point, I was more angry than anything. We’d spent months fighting and tracking the alpha—Peter—as he went on a bloodthirsty rampage through Beacon Hills. We’d nearly died in the school, and at the movie store, and in these very woods. Several times. 

Lydia and I had been bitten, and Stiles’ dad was close to a nervous breakdown because nothing in this town makes any goddamn sense unless you’re risking your life everyday just by knowing about the supernatural. And now, we had to deal with Allison’s batshit crazy family, on top of everything. 

I just wanted it to be over.

Kate huffed out a surprised laugh and pointed the gun at me again. “What poetic last words.”

“No! Leave her alone! I’m the one you want.” Scott shouted desperately, stumbling upright from his position in the dirt. 

An evil smirk twitched at her lips as she ignored him. I watched her pointer finger tighten on the trigger and held my breath as I waited for the inevitable. 

“Kate!” A deep voice boomed from behind me, making her pause. I instantly recognized that it was Allison’s dad. “I know what you did.”

The amusement dropped from her face at his words and her eyes flickered up toward the house for a brief moment. 

“Put the gun down.” Mr. Argent ordered, dried leaves crunching beneath his shoes as he walked toward us. 

“I did what I was told to do.” Kate jutted her hand toward me as she enunciated each word curtly. 

I stiffened, very aware that her finger, which still rested against the gun’s trigger, could set it off at any moment. My pulse hammered in my ears loudly and my entire body began trembling as my fear suddenly caught up with me.

“No one asked you to murder innocent people. There were children in that house.” 

My mind raced as I slowly pieced together what he was saying. The fire. It was Kate. But why? Why would she murder an entire family?

“Ones that were human. Look what you’re doing now, you’re holding a gun at sixteen year old kids. No proof they’ve spilled human blood.” He continued, his voice harsh and unfeeling. “Now, put the gun down...before I put you down.”

My eyes widened at his threat. Would he really kill his own sister?

Kate stared at him for a few long moments, her face crumbling in disbelief. Finally, she lowered her arm back down to her side. I let out a heavy breath of relief, but didn’t move from my crouched position in front of her. A loud creak from the house had everyone’s attention jerking toward it. 

The front door swung open slowly, nothing but darkness behind it.

“Kids, get back.” Allison’s dad ordered gruffly as he cocked his gun and aimed it at the decrepit structure. 

Scott stumbled to his feet, but didn’t make a move to run and hide as instructed. Allison joined his side a moment later, her bow and arrow cocked and aimed at the house. I heard quick steps behind me a moment before strong arms wrapped around my waist and hauled me to my feet. 

Stiles whipped me around to face him, and I winced as my head throbbed in protest. His hands came up to cradle the sides of my face, his fingers turning red as my blood smeared onto his skin. His wide eyes flickered around my body frantically, as if not fully believing that I was right here in front of him. 

He suddenly jerked me toward him and smashed his lips against mine, pouring every emotion he’d just gone through into the kiss. I responded instantly, my hands fisting the warm material of his flannel as I pulled him closer. It was over much too soon as he pulled back with a shaky breath of relief. 

“God, I’m so mad at you right now. I could literally kill you.” His eyes twitched as he continued inspecting me for any hidden injuries. 

“Wouldn’t that be a little counterproductive?” I chuckled despite the situation, and he just glared at me.

“What is it?” My attention jerked back to Allison at the sound of her panicked voice. I’d nearly forgotten what was going on outside the peaceful bubble that was Stiles. 

I turned back toward the house and saw Scott’s eyes flash bright yellow as he peered through the opened front door. “It’s the alpha.” 

At his declaration, a huge black mass raced out of the house, moving impossibly fast. It dashed around the area in a big circle before turning abruptly and knocking Mr. Argent right off his feet. He flew into the air before landing heavily, instantly passing out cold as his head slammed against the dirt. 

Allison cried out and made a move to help him, but quickly found herself in no better shape as the alpha rammed into her next. Only a second later, Scott was groaning as he lay in a heap beside her on the leaf covered ground. My heart slammed against my ribs painfully as my head whipped from side to side, trying to see where he was now. 

All the air rushed from my lungs as a powerful force shoved against mine and Stiles’ sides. His arms instantly wrapped around my waist, and mine around his shoulders. We held onto each other tightly as we flew several feet through the air. At the last second, Stiles shifted us so that he would take the brunt of the fall. He hissed in pain as his back slammed onto the dirt, and I quickly scrambled to get off of him. 

“Come on!” Kate’s angry voice echoed through the trees as she jerked her gun around in a circle. She was the only one left standing. 

I wrapped an arm around Stiles and helped him sit up. He waved me off, muttering something about being fine, and I huffed in annoyance. At this point I was convinced that he was physically unable to help himself from downplaying his own struggles. 

I was about to argue with him, but froze when Peter emerged from the darkness to stand threatening behind Kate. He snatched the arm that held her gun and wrenched it behind her with ease. She grunted in pain as he twisted it with a snap, two shots firing into the sky as they struggled. 

She had no choice but to release the gun. It landed on the ground with a dull thud as he gripped her by the throat and tossed her in the air like a ragdoll. She crashed onto the porch, a cloud of dust rising all around her as she shakily pushed herself up. 

Peter wasted no time in striding up the broken steps. He bent down and grabbed Kate violently before pressing her back to his chest, holding her in place with his claws at her neck. 

“No!” Allison suddenly shouted and sprinted toward them. 

My eyes widened in horror. What the hell did she think she was doing? I made a move to follow her, but Stiles wrapped both arms around my waist tightly. I pulled against him for a few seconds, but stopped when Peter’s voice echoed toward us. 

“She is beautiful, Kate. She looks like you, only not as damaged. So I’m going to give you a chance to save her.” My breath hitched as he addressed Allison and I started thrashing against Stiles again. I couldn’t let her get hurt. I couldn’t let anyone else I care about become one of his victims. “Apologize. Say you’re sorry for decimating my family, for leaving me burned and broken for six years. Say it, and I’ll let her live.”

A tense moment of silence passed as Kate seemed to weigh her options. Finally, she choked the words out the best she could. “I’m...sorry.” 

A small, satisfied smile tugged at Peter’s lips before he ripped her throat out with his claws. My jaw dropped as blood splattered across every nearby surface, my stomach churning at the violence of it all. Allison screamed, practically doubling over in horror as Kate crumpled to the porch with wide, empty eyes. Peter’s shoulders sagged as he let out a long sigh, a look of relief washing over him. 

“I don’t know about you, Allison, but that apology didn’t sound very sincere.” His amused gaze bored into her wide, glistening eyes as he stalked down the steps.

By the time he had one foot on the dirt ground, Scott and Derek were crouched in front of her protectively. I hadn’t even noticed that Derek was still alive, let alone completely healed, but I was more than grateful. 

“Run.” Scott grunted over his shoulder, and she didn’t hesitate to listen. 

She sprinted toward me and Stiles, taking her bow with her, and immediately crumpled into my arms. A harsh sob wracked her body as I pulled her in tight. I felt Stiles’ hand on my back as he guided us hastily toward his Jeep. A few animalistic growls and roars sounded from behind us, and I knew they were fighting.

“I’m sorry.” Allison cried, pulling away from me to wipe at her face. “I’m so, so sorry. I-I didn’t know what happened with you and Lydia, and now Kate’s gone and—oh my God. I’m the worst friend ever.” 

Stiles wrenched the passenger door open when we reached the car and I shoved Allison inside before crawling in behind her. Something snapped behind us, and I honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d just uprooted a tree or completely destroyed the house. 

“It’s okay.” I breathed, running a hand down Allison’s back as she continued blubbering. “We’re both terrible friends, honestly.”

“Wait.” She suddenly perked up, her eyes widening in horror. “My dad.”

Damnit. I‘d completely forgotten about him. 

I turned to peer out the window and winced as Peter picked Derek up by the ankle and tossed him through the air. He crashed into Scott, who was trying to pull himself upright a few feet away, bringing him right back down harshly. 

Peter snarled, seemingly losing control as he hunched over and shifted fully into a huge, terrifying beast. He roared loudly, baring his claws and stalking forward. He grabbed Derek by the throat and threw him into a nearby tree before turning back to Scott. 

“I have to do something.” Stiles suddenly spoke up from the front seat. My head whipped in his direction as he threw open the driver’s side door and clambered onto the ground. 

“What? No!” I immediately tumbled out behind him and watched with baited breath as he reached into the trunk. 

My brows furrowed as I caught sight of a huge beaker in his hand. I barely had time to register that here was a yellow liquid swirling inside before he hurled it at Peter. As it flew toward him, I realized it was a Molotov cocktail, like the one Lydia showed us how to make when we were stuck inside the school. Peter caught it easily, his glowing red eyes snapping our way with a ferocious growl. 

“Oh, damn...” Stiles instantly deflated and took a tentative step back. 

My eyes widened as I whipped back around to face Allison, an idea suddenly popping into my head. She seemed to know exactly what I was thinking as she reached for her bow and instantly nocked the arrow into place. After taking only a moment to aim it out the opened window, she fired. 

It hit the glass bottle dead center, and Peter’s left arm erupted in flames. He roared frantically and tried shaking the fire off, only managing to make it spread across his torso more quickly. Soon, his entire body was ablaze as he staggered around and howled in agony. 

After a few long, torturous moments, he slumped down onto his knees in his human form. Thick smoke billowed from his charred skin as he sputtered and gasped for air. We all stood impossibly still, gaping at him in horror. I don’t think any of us had the slightest idea of what to do next.

Derek suddenly emerged from the house, his face a tight mask of fury. He stalked toward Peter, who now lay on his back, and stood over him with clenched fists. 

“Wait!” Scott rose to his feet and stopped only a foot away from them, his eyes wide with panic. Derek’s hard glare never moved an inch. “You said the cure comes from the one who bit you. If you do this, I’m dead. What am I supposed to do?”

My attention snapped back toward him, surprised at his words. There was a cure? I had no idea what he was talking about, but it must’ve been important if he was this freaked out over it. 

Derek’s eyes pinched shut and his jaw clenched tightly. He hesitated for only a brief moment before raising a clawed hand in the air. 

“Wait! N-no! Don’t!” Scott's desperate plea fell on deaf ears as Derek brought his hand down to slash Peter’s throat. 

Allison gasped from beside me, and I just stared ahead with wide eyes. My breath caught in my throat as I watched yet another person’s life fade away right in front of me. It was almost hard to believe, that he was actually dead. We’d all been through so much. It didn’t seem possible that it could all be over, just like that. 

There had to be more.

Derek staggered to his feet and turned to glower at Scott over his shoulder. His canines elongated and his eyes flashed bright red before he uttered the words we were all dreading. The ones that would seal our fate for the foreseeable future. 

“I’m the alpha now.”

Episode 11 Season 2, Episode 1 (Part One)

#stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #teen wolf imagine #scott mccall #scott and stiles #allison argent #chris argent #kate argent #derek hale #lydia martin #jackson whittemore #stiles #stiles x oc #stiles x y/n #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf series #teen wolf rewrite #season finale #teen wolf season one

[crystxlclear]

sudden desire

chapter fourteen: i should’ve stayed in bed

part fifteen of sudden desire

masterlist

synopsis: moving on.

warnings: angst, mentions of pregnancy & loss

word count: 2k

Marcus is smiling, warm and sweet as always, as he leans against the doorway of her bedroom.

She’s yet to notice he’s there. He’d let himself in a couple of minutes earlier, like he always does, expecting to see her on the couch or in the kitchen, like he always does, but she hadn’t been there. He’d almost thought she wasn’t home, until she’d heard the quiet humming coming from down the hallway.

The sweet sounds lead him to Coraline’s bedroom.

She sits at her dresser, makeup half-finished, a pale silk dress hanging from her wardrobe, ready to be slipped into. Her eyes are wide as she swipes mascara over her lashes, lost in heady concentration and Radiohead playing over the room’s speakers. She hums along, listening idly to the lyrics as she takes her time getting ready. Coraline sets down her mascara, slips her glasses onto her nose and picks up her tube of lipstick; just as she’s about to press the colour against her lips, puckering them almost comically into the mirror, Marcus knocks his foot against the doorframe, once, twice, three times, and laughs at the utterly ridiculous (and adorable, completely and undeniably adorable) faces she makes as she stares at her reflection in the mirror.

The tube of lipstick clatters against the vanity table and she whirls on him, brandishing her mascara in his direction like some kind of makeshift makeup sword. She yelps as she spins on her heels. She gasps once she sees it’s only him, relieved that she’s not about to be murdered in the comfort of her own home. “Marcus.” Her chest heaves as she catches her breath, her hand pressed firm over her heart. She slumps back down into the chair she’d leapt from.

He’s frustratingly handsome like this - in his work suit, dishevelled in the best possible way, his jacket tapered perfectly against the lines of his torso. Long legs stretch out before him, one leg tucked over the other. Marcus crosses his arms and leans back against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow in amusement as she glares at him over the wire rim of her glasses.

“Boo.” He hums.

He’s tired. She can tell in the thickness of his voice, the heavy lethargy of his limbs. Work and loss is taking its toll on him - just as it is on her - and, though it’s getting better now, it still weighs upon his shoulders when he wakes every morning.

“Huh, no shit, Marcus,” Coraline groans, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose and turning back to the mirror with a scoff. She drops the makeshift mascara sword and picks back up her lipstick. “How long have you been standing there?” She smiles at him over her shoulder, warm and gentle, inviting him in.

He gives a coy shrug. “Long enough,” he poses, “I was just admiring the view.”.

Coraline’s lips quirk into a smirk as she scoffs and rolls her eyes. What a line. Marcus’ fond smile grows, affection radiating from the FBI Agent like he’s the sun. “I hope you saw something you liked,” she counters.

Marcus narrows his eyes a little. He scrubs a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Hmm, well-”

“Asshole,” she gasps. She can’t help but mirror his amused grin, though, when he steps further into her bedroom, into the lamplight that bathes his golden skin in warmth. “What are you doing here?” Her words come tipped with a chuckle when he’s behind her - lingering, half-desperate and completely fucking exhausted - pushes her hair away from her shoulder and drops a kiss to the exposed part of her shoulder. “I thought you were working late?”

The intimacy of it all has become so familiar now that, despite their agreement coming to an end, the kisses seem part of their relationship, now. It’s comfortable. Coraline craves the warmth of his lips against her skin; she has a feeling he feels the same way, too.

“Rough day,” he murmurs against her skin, lips brushing softly over her. His hands grip at her hips, fingers dipping slightly beneath the thin material of her shirt. “Wanted to see you.” He pulls back to meet her gaze in the mirror. “Selfish, I know. You’re getting ready.”

“I don’t mind.” She hums. Coraline drops her head back against his shoulder, turning so her nose brushes the sharp line of his stubble-covered jaw. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Marcus huffs out a sigh. He buries his face into her warmth. “Not really.” He just can’t let her go. “Just-” he sighs. “-just wanted to hold you.”

“Oh.”

It’s all familiar intimacy now. Teetering on the precipice, somewhere between unsure and knowing. Somewhere between friends and, maybe, more. Truthfully, they’d passed that line of friendship months ago - but they both knew that when they started whatever… this was - yet they’re stuck, suspended, in some kind of godforsaken limbo. It’s like they’re floating in space, trying to reach for each other, trying to ground themselves to anything to stop themselves from drifting further and further and further away.

She thinks they might already be half-gone, already.

But, for now, she’s content just to stay there, wrapped in his arms, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart steady inside his chest. They won’t have children together. They won’t be together. They’ll move on, find someone new. And they’ll look back on those days when this felt like the centre of their universe fondly, as best friends do.

“I’m sorry, you’re getting ready.” His low voice is muffled by her shoulder.

“I still have time,” she insists. Coraline reaches back to card a hand through Marcus’ curls, the brush of her nails over his scalp drawing out some of the tension that knots every inch of his body.

He exhales a long breath and drops another kiss to her shoulder, as he pushes down the material of her Springsteen shirt just a little further. It’s far too big for her - about four sizes so - and rests just above her knees. It almost drowns her; he’s pretty sure it used to be her father’s, but he isn’t sure. It smells like her perfume and he’s far too intoxicated by the bright scent to care.

“Where are you going, that’s got you looking so beautiful?”

Charmer.

“Hmm-” Coraline seems to hesitate for a moment, rolling her tube of lipstick through her fingers. “I have a date.”

Fuck.

He should have told her when he had the chance.

But, damn, if she’s happy, then he’s happy.

Because it’s true what they say: if you love someone, you should set them free.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” He enquires, hoping that the stiffness in his voice doesn’t show. He doesn’t have any right to be jealous. They were never together.

She was never his.

Coraline shrugs. Her fingers carry on their ministrations across her scalp. “Just someone from work.” His eyes draw to hers in the mirror; his eyebrows raise in questioning - she’d practically sworn off dating co-workers after Scott and the problems that seemed to drag up for a long while afterwards - and she slumps back against him, her back curling into his chest. “I know, I know.” She rolls her eyes at herself. “But- but he’s sweet,” she insists.

Not as sweet as you, she thinks. He could never be you.

She finally drops her fingers from his curls and sweeps the lipstick over her lips; bright red and perfect on her. She puckers her lips again — the ridiculous gesture only serving to make him chuckle as he drops to sit on her bed — and her eyes draw to him as he groans, his shoulders slumping forward a little, before he straightens his back rigid again, as if nothing was wrong. Coraline narrows her eyes at him in the mirror.

“Marcus-” The call of his name draws his gaze to hers. “Are you okay?” She scowls at him in concern, green eyes alive with worry as his shoulders sag.

He smiles; it’s half-hearted and nowhere near as bright as his smile usually is, the smile that she welcomes every morning and craves every bad day. “I’m fine.” Marcus’ limbs are heavy. Like someone had tied weights to his wrists and his ankles, and he’s stuck lugging the burdens for the rest of his days. He’s completely exhausted, bled dry of energy, a heavy workload and the brutal sting of all their loss hitting him like a ten-ton truck, without warning.

Coraline narrows her eyes at him as he rubs at his jaw. He’d kept his facial hair at her request, so long ago that he thinks he’d miss the itchy thing if it were gone, now, but lately it’s been growing a little too unruly. “I can stay. I can reschedule-” She insists, but he’s shaking his head adamantly before she’s even finished her sentence.

Tell me not to go, she thinks.

Give me a reason to stay.

He won’t. He doesn’t feel the same way.

Coraline spins in her seat and tilts her head, worry tugging at her eyebrows. He catches her gaze as it lingers on his face, the face that gives away so much. “I’ll stay, Marcus.”

He knows she will. He’d do the same for her.

Don’t go, he thinks.

Let me give you a reason to stay.

She won’t. She doesn’t feel the same way.

“Don’t. Not for me.” He brushes her concern off.

“Marcus, I’ll stay, if you want me to.”

He almost asks her to, but that would be selfish.

“You have a date, sunshine.”

Coraline chuckles. “A date I’ve been holding off for months. He won’t mind if I tell him my best friend needs me.”

“Months, huh?” He smiles as much as he can bear to. “He must really like you.”

“Well-” Coraline’s teeth worry at her bottom lip and she reaches to scratch awkwardly at the back of her neck. “-his daughter likes me.” She smiles to herself; it’s bright, just for a moment, but she reins it in, as if she can’t be happy. “I think that helps,” she tells him.

A daughter.

Who is he to deny her that?

“Don’t let me keep you.” Marcus reaches across the small space between them and reaches for her hand; he dots a kiss to each of her knuckles, his thumb brushing once over the inside of her wrist, before he stands to leave. His knees protest as he stands, an uncomfortable ache spiking up his legs, but he ignores it, despite the pang of pain that flashes across his face.

If she stayed, he wouldn’t be good company. He’s sure he’ll fall asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

Coraline stands along with him. She catches his wrist in hers. White-hot adoration shoots through him and it’s almost undeniable how much he loves her, right now. He’d scream it for all to hear if he could. “I’ll stay,” she insists again. She’s serious. All he has to do is ask. “Do you want me to stay?”

Yes.

“No.”

It hits them both like a punch in the gut. It’s far too abrupt, far too coarse. He clears his throat.

“I want you to go out and enjoy yourself.” Marcus kisses her forehead. Coraline chases his lips; she almost kisses him. Almost. She just lingers close to him for a moment, before drawing back, before remembering where the hell she is and that she can’t just lean up and kiss him whenever she wants because he’s not hers and it’s not fair and she can’t keep pretending that he’s in love with her when she’s sure that he isn’t. And when she herself isn’t even damn sure what the hell it is that cuts through the thick tension lingering in the space between them.

And Marcus can’t keep this façade going in his mind that they’re anything more than friends.

“And I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

Marcus sighs. He has to bite back his smile. He wishes that were true. That she means it the way he wants her to mean it. But she can’t.

Surely, she can’t.

“I mean, really happy.” The back of his fingers brush her cheeks. “Now, enjoy your date, sunshine.” He dips and kisses her nose. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”



taglist: @wheresthewater @its--fandom--darling @alberta-sunrise @sara-alonso @madslorian @freeshavocadoooo @giselatropicana @thorins-queen-of-erebor

#marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x coraline meyer #marcus pike x female character #marcus pike x original character #marcus pike x fem!oc #marcus pike x original female character #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x female reader